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NOBLEMAN ON THE TURF
IN BAD HANDS.
Sir HENRY WRAXALL, Baet.,
CHARLES H. CLARKE, 13, PATERNOSTER ROW.
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THE NOBLEMAN ON THE TUKF ;
IN BAD HANDS.
Castle Compton had for years been the chief seat of
the Dukes of Masborough. The title of the first duke
of that name dated far back in the fifteenth century.
The dukedom was a rich one and had estates attached to
it, with long rent rolls, in various parts of England.
Probably the income was nearly 100,000Z. a year, which
even in these days of large commercial fortunes is suffi-
cient to entitle an aristocrat to respect. The young Duke
of Masborough at three-and-twenty was a standing ex-
ample of the evils of primogeniture. If there had been no
law of that description, the property would have long ago
been split up amongst his uncles and granduncles, and
probably been of more use to the State than it was in
his hands. But the knell of the law of primogeniture
and entail has not yet sounded.
Arthur Arundel Masham, Duke of Masborough, came
into the title at the early age of fifteen, when he was at
2 The Nobleman on the Turf.
Eton. His father, who had held various leading posi-
tions in the country, owing to the influence which the
noble old "Whig families can always command, to the
exclusion of better men, made an esteemed friend and
member for the county of Cheshire, in which Castle
Compton was situated, his guardian. Mr. Ommaney
Lane "Whittaker, M.P., was a person totally unfitted
for the post, for though well-meaning, he had little
strength of mind, and detested anything which gave
him the least trouble, which is a peculiarity not con-
fined to members of the Commons' House, as it is the
fashion to call the first club in London.
The Duchess of Masborough wa3 very fond of her
child, and. as a matter of course, spoilt him in the most
rgivgi' u-lv absurd manner, letting him have his own
way in everthing and do very much as he liked. At
t! :•■ age of eighteen he went up to Oxford from Eton,
and evinced no inclination to take a degree ; the
lit'le knowledge he had acquired at Eton just enabling
him to matriculate, and at Oriel he did his best to
forget what he had already learnt. We need scarcely
add that in this laudable endeavour he was as highly
succrs-ful as his sinccrcst admirers could wish.
Alter three years' stay at Oxford, he signalised him-
self cue fifth of November by an exploit, in which the
dest ni<! icn liv burning of a college pump in a quad was
tlir prinrijial feature, and it was deemed advisableby
1;h mother and guardian to withdraw him, for a time
at Ic.i-t. from that ancient and classic seat of learning,
a< lie showed a stronger disposition for fighting bargees
.and riilin^ in steeple-chases, than he did for the acqui-
sition of (J reek, Latin, and the higher mathematics.
Foreign travel was suggested. It usually is in such
cases, and it was determined that he should, like Lord
Lo veil in the song, ' Go foreign countries for to see.'
(Chorus ad libitum.') The next thing was to find him
Castle Compton. 3
a fit and proper travelling companion, and at his own
particular request a gentleman, whose acquaintance he
had made at Oxford, and who belonged to one of the
Halls and had just taken his Master's degree, was
selected as his travelling tutor, at a salary of five
hundred a year and his expenses.
The gentleman's name was Stoney Hines. No one
knew much about his family. He had gained an exhi-
bition at some provincial school, and so gone up to the
University, aided by a small allowance from his father,
it was said, and it was further whispered that his
father was, or had been, a gaol chaplain somewhere in
the South of England. No one could say, however, that
Mr. Stoney Hines was a fool. His enemies, and he was
sufficiently individualised and clever to have many,
admitted that he was a young man of brilliant genius,
who had made his way at the University solely by his
talents, which had gained him respect, if not esteem.
Neither the duchess nor Mr. Whittaker thought of
inquiring about his principles or moral character. He
was clever. He would coach Masborough and get him
on. He could speak French and knew a little German,
and was therefore admirably fitted for the young noble-
man's companion. In addition to this, he was six or
seven years older. Thirty is an age of discretion ; he
would keep his volatile charge in check, and so they
started together. The duchess gave her son her bless-
ing, and Mr. Ommaney Lane Whittaker — he being just
of age — gave him the unlimited control of his affairs,
the power to spend an income of nearly ten thousand a
month, and contented himself with advising him not to
go ahead too much, although he admitted it was ne-
cessary that an English duke should keep up the
reputation of his class abroad.
At the time our story opens, the Duke of Masborough
and his tutor, Mr. Stoney Hines, had been absent two
4 The Nobleman on the Turf.
years. The duchess had heard of them at almost every
part of Europe, and the Mediterranean coasts of Africa
and Asia. They had announced their intention of
returning home. It was in December, and they were
to arrive two days before Christmas. Castle Compton
put on an unwonted appearance of gaiety and bustle.
A select circle of friends (according to the Morning
Post) were invited to spend Christmas at the castle ;
the staff of servants was increased, and general prepa-
rations for rejoicing and being merry were made.
Among the guests who first arrived were Mr. Ommaney
Lane Whittaker, still M.P for the long-suffering
county of Cheshire. The constituency might have
found a more efficient member, but they shopily re-
flected that Mr. Whittaker was rich, and highly re-
spectable, and owned a deal of land in the county, and,
besides that, his father had occupied the same position
before him. How could they turn him out after all
these qualifications for the post were taken into con-
sideration ? The thing was clearly impossible. So
respectable imbecility as usual carried the day. With
Mr. Whittaker arrived Captain Douglass Arnott, and
his sister, Emily Arnott ; their mother and father were
to follow on Christmas-day. The Arnotts were also
local celebrities, and landowners for nobody knew how
many generations. Mr. Arnott boasted that he would
give his daughter a clot of 50,000£. down on the nail
when she married, provided she did so with his consent,
and consequently the fortune hunters swarmed about
her like so many flies around a pot of honey. But
Emily Arnott remembered that, before Masborough
went abroad with Mr. Hines, he had told her, while
walking in the gardens of the castle, on a summer
evening, with his arm round her waist, and his eyes
burning into hers, that he loved her ; and she believed
him, and thought herself happy, for she too loved the
Castle Compton. 5
handsome young nobleman with all her heart and soul.
Miss Arnott was young, pretty, and susceptible. Most
fair-haired young ladies of nineteen, with baby faces,
think love the Alpha and Omega of life, and she was no
exception to the general rule. Certainly she was
extremely attractive, and when the duchess saw the
turn affairs were taking she was much pleased, hoping
that her son might indeed marry Miss Arnott, whom
she was quite willing to receive as her daughter-in-law.
A mother does not always approve of her son's wife,
either before or after marriage, and there must have
been something very agreeable about Emily to induce
her to regard her with so much favour. But she had
known her and her friends all the girl's life, and that
made a difference, perhaps.
At first Masborough wrote often to Miss Arnott, and
his letters contained expressions of affection which her
soul fed upon as the gods drank ambrosia. After a
time his communications were not so frequent, and
their tone grew colder. To account for this change she
was utterly at a loss. She could not accuse herself of
any fault. She grew uneasy, and became miserable
when Masborough told her that he was going to make
a journey to Mecca, and could not give her any address
to write to. After this she heard no more from him.
In subsequent letters to his mother he said — ' Remem-
ber me very warmly to Emily,' and, later on, ' Give my
kind regards to Miss Arnott,' or, ' How are the
Arnotts ? Do you see much of them ? Remember
me when you meet.' Emily had many a good cry in
secret over this coldness and neglect, but she was too
proud to show openly what she felt. The duchess,
however, felt for her, and tried to comfort her.
' He is young, and a little wild, dear,' she would say.
' He hates writing letters, and calls it a bore. Ycu
will not find him changed when he comes back. Pray
6 The Nobleman on the Turf.
excuse him for his carelessness, I am sure he does not
So Emily hoped against hope, and waited anxiously
for the day of his return. When she was told that he
was expected at Christmas, and she received an invi-
tation to meet him, how her heart fluttered. It was all
she could do to restrain her nervous anxiety, which
threatened to make her seriously ill.
On the morning of the day which he had fixed for
his arrival, the Duchess of Masborough and Mr. Om-
maney Lane Whittaker held a consultation in the
boudoir of the former.
' I am so glad Masborough is coming home,' began
the duchess. i It is so long since he was here that I
confess I am quite anxious to see him again. He will
be no longer the fair boy, with the slender moustache.'
' Certainly the sun will have browned him a little,
and he will be all the more manly for having seen the
world,' answered Mr. Whittaker; ' yet I do not expect
to see him much altered, except in a certain gravity
which he ought to have acquired.'
* He ought to think of settling. This is the age of
early marriages ; the Royal Family set the example.'
' Who could he have except his old love ? '
' Miss Arnott ? Emily is a dear, good girl, and in
every way worthy of him, though he has not taken so
much notice of her lately as I could have wished,'
replied the duchess thoughtfully.
' Carelessness always was his great fault,' observed
1 Yet his heart is good.'
' Oh, I believe that always was in the right place.
If he follows in his father's footsteps he will take a high
place in the ministry one of these days. I am tired of
parliamentary life. If he had not a seat in the House
of Lords I think I should resign in his favour.'
Castle Gompton. 7
'Any nominee of yours is sure to be elected, so that
need not matter.'
' Positively certain,' returned Mr. Whittaker con-
'identially. ' No one could stand against our united
' If he would publish a volume of his travels it would
attract notice, and do him some good, but he has no
literary talent I fear.'
' That matters very little. There are many men in
London to be got hold of who can and will write any-
thing if they are paid for it. You have seen my
pamphlet on Political Economy ? well, I did not write
a line of it. I merely gave a man the ideas, and got
the credit of being a profound thinker and facile writer.'
Mr. Ommaney Lane Whittaker took a pinch of snuff,
and chuckled as he thought how easily he had gulled
the public generally, and his constituents in particular.
' Ours is quite a statesman-like name,' remarked the
' It has been so for generations,'
' I wish Masborough were a little more studiously
' Most young men sow wild oats,' answered Mr.
Whittaker, ' and I suppose he is no exception to the
' Let us hope he has finished sowing them,' the
duchess said with a cheerful smile.
' It is not the sowing, my dear madam, that matters
so much. It is the extent of the crop that has to
be afterwards reaped,' remarked Mr. Whittaker, pro-
' Ah ! precisely : but we must not indulge gloomy
anticipations ; let us hope for the best.'
1 Certainly, let us hope. It can do no harm, and he
is in good hands with Hines. Capital fellow, Hines ! '
' And so clever.'
8 The Nobleman on the Turf.
' Overwhelmingly so. Excellent fellow, Hines. Quite
invaluable. Oh, here comes Captain Arnott ! '
A gentleman about thirty entered the room, and
apologised for his intrusion, saying, ' I really beg your
Grace's pardon ; I was told I should find my sister
with you, and I know she wants some commissions
' Don't mention it, Captain Arnott. Are you going
to Chester ? ' said the duchess.
' Yes ; I drive over in half-an-hour. Can I do any-
thing for you, or for Mr. Whittaker ? '
Both responded in the negative.
' We were talking about Masborough, and saying
what a capital fellow Hines is as a companion for him,'
said Mr. Whittaker.
' Indeed ! ' said Captain Arnott, shortly.
' You do not seem to think so ! ' the duchess said,
' Well, frankly, I don't, and never did ; though I
don't care about talking of a man behind his back.'
The duchess and Mr. Whittaker looked at one
another as if it was high treason to entertain a doubt
respecting the mental ability or moral character of Mr.
THE EVIL GENIUS.
* I HAVE always regarded him as a man of high attain-
ments and great promise. So steady ; such principle ;
so clever !' said Mr. Ommaney Lane Whittaker, after a
1 And I, also,' chimed in her Grace.
' Well, he may be,' said Captain Arnott, hesitatingly.
' What you say induces me to regard him in a new light,
though I must confess I should not like to have money
on the event.'
' What do you know of him ?' said Mr. Whittaker.
' Nothing positively ; that is to say, of my own
' Now, I do beg of you, Captain Arnott,' said the
duchess, ' to tell us anything you may have heard.
Masborough is entirely in his hands, and if it is judi-
cious to remove him, why it must be done.'
' All I know is, that he and my brother Charles were
up at Oxford together. Mr. Hines is a Brazenose-man,
so is Charles. Naturally we talked of Mr. Hines, when
we heard he had gone abroad with Masborough.
Charles says he is clever, but nothing else. He was a
great gambler, and would make young fellows play at
cards and pluck them. As for being steady, Charles
says it is all nonsense ; for one night, when an attempt
was made to blow up the statue of Cain and Abel in
Brazenose quad, he saw Mr. Hines running away, and
has no moral doubt that he was the culprit, though
another man was sent away for it. He speculated, too,
10 The Nobleman on the Turf.
rather heavily, on all races at the University, and all
turf races, having an especial fondness for Newmarket
and horses. Still, he may have altered, and Charles
may have been deceived. I am glad to be set right
about Mr. Hines, though I will say that his deep,
calculating face and cunning grey eyes are against
' I have remarked the restless expression of his eyes,'
said the duchess, evidencing that her confidence was
waning, and showing how easy it is to prejudice ono
person against another.
' And now I come to think of it, I never liked his
face ; there was always something designing about it,'
observed Mr. Whittaker.
' He must be got rid of.'
' I shall take an early opportunity of speaking very
seriously to Masborough about it.'
' I hope no harm has been done as yet,' said the
' It would be an irreparable injury if Masborough
should have imbibed any of his tastes and habits/ said
' I fear I have alarmed your Grace and Mr. Whit-
taker. If so, it was entirely unintentional on my part,'
said Captain Arnott.
' Will you talk to my son when he arrives ? You can
do it as an old friend ; that is, if you see anything
wrong, and a man will have a better opportunity of
judging,' said her Grace.
' Certainly I will. I shall consider it my duty since
you have asked me,' the captain answered.
' Dear me ; how strangely things come about ! I did
not expect this ; candidly, I did not,' remarked Mr.
Whittaker, taking a prodigious pinch of snuff from a
handsome gold box, which had at one time belonged to
The Evil Genius. 11
' You acquit me of any prejudice in this matter ?' the
1 Of course, my dear Arnott ; we know you are above
that,' answered Mr. Whittaker, immediately ; ' your
communication is a favour. I assure you I regard it as
' For my part,' said the duchess, ' I am personally
indebted to Mr. Arnott.'
Then the conversation ended, but it left a strong
impression upon the minds of all three. Arnott drove
over to Chester. Her Grace went out in the carriage,
and Mr. Ommaney began to read the Times which had
just come down from London.
It was late in the afternoon when the Duke of Mas-
borough, accompanied by Mr. Stoney Hines, arrived at
the castle. The carriage had been waiting for him all
day at the railway station. He was not above the
middle height, stout, and rather heavy in appearance,
with a fat face which might have concealed intelligence
behind its pudginess, but allowed no scintillation to
escape. He wore no beard, had a moustache and thin
whiskers ; his manner was reserved but not thoughtful,
and his conversation did not betray any waste of time on
thought or reading. Mr. Hines, on the contrary, was
tall, thin, dark and quick, clean as to the absence of
hair on his face, simple in attire as his Grace was loud,
and something like a Jesuit priest in manner. We
would try and find another simile, but cannot imagine
one more forcibly conveying the disagreeable impres-
sion he produced on the beholder. The duke's manner
was gentlemanly, easy, and well-bred ; he greeted the
friends assembled to meet him kindly, kissed his mother,
and shook hands with Emily in a hearty manner, which
disarmed her suspicions.
Christmas passed over, with a constant round of
festivities. There was plenty of shooting in the well-
12 The Nobleman on the Turf.
stocked preserves ; in the absence of frost, the- hounds
met three times a week, and his Grace created a favour-
able impression by declaring his intention of accepting
the mastership, which the present holder of that posi-
tion was desirous of resigning on the score of ill health,
though in reality because the expense was greater than
he could afford.
It was not until some of the guests had taken their
departure that Mr. Whittaker ventured to talk to the
young duke, who had delighted every one with his
varied stories of travel, his excellent shooting, the way
in which he flirted with and danced with the ladies,
the careless rate with which he lost money at cards
or billiards, and his devil-may-care manner generally —
when we say everybody we must except his mother. In
her anxious eyes he was by far too easy and careless ; he
seemed to live for pleasure only, and to seek for con-
stant excitement, as if he wished to forget some un-
pleasant passage of his life, in the everlasting round
of pleasure. Mr. Hines was his shadow ; he was
always at his elbow, scarcely ever left him, accom-
panied him on all his rambles, and exercised a vast
and undoubted influence over him. To Mr. Whittaker
and to the duchess Hines was affability itself, to others
he was offhand and even rude, as if he felt his position
so secured that he could venture to assume a manner
which, coming from such a man, was to many insuffer-
ably offensive ; but he was quick at retort, clever in
sarcasm, and in a few hastily uttered words could wound
severely without saying anything which the hearer could
fix upon to make a quarrel ; so, while the duke was the
most popular man in the house, Mr. Hines was the one
most universally disliked.
Catching the young duke alone one morning, Mr.
Whittaker took advantage of the opportunity to talk
seriously to him.
TJie Evil Genius. 13
After a preliminary * break ' his late guardian said,
' And what are your intentions, my dear boy ? '
' About what ? ' asked Masborough, staring stupidly
at the fire.
1 Things in general — the course you intend to
pursue ? '
' That is soon answered, " replied the duke. ' The
course I intend to follow is the race-course.'
'The what?' said Mr. Whittaker, paralysed with
astonishment and gasping for breath.
' The turf, racing, and all that sort of thing ; don't
you understand ? I have sixteen horses in training
now at Chantilly I bought from Count Lagrange, and
Hines is looking out, over here, for a trainer and some
good quarters, as I mean to purchase largely, and must
have some good entries for the races.'
' Mr. Hines is doing this ? ' said Mr. Whittaker, re-
' Certainly; he acts under my orders.'
' Then, all I can say is that Mr. Hines is acting most
disgracefully, and is not fit for the position he has so
long held ; he has shamefully abused his trust,' said
the guardian, allowing his indignation to explode.
' You had better tell him so,' the duke rejoined with
a half smile.
' I shall certainly take an early opportunity of doing
so, and in no measured terms. You have indeed as-
tonished me. I could never have believed that you
would have evidenced a liking for such a career.
Think how many noblemen have been ruined on the
' I am at home in a stable, and I flatter myself I
know the points of a horse as well as I do those of a
woman,' said Masborough, quietly.
' Points of a horse — points of a — Bless me, what
language is this ? How unlike my poor dead friend,
14 The Nobleman on the Turf.
your father. But you must be joking,' said Mr. Omma-
ney Lane Whittaker.
' I ! Oh, dear no ! I assure you I never was more
serious in my life. I will win a few Darbies and
Sillingers if I live long enough.'
' Darbies and Sillingers ! ' said the poor guardian in
despair, uttering a sort of wail. ' He talks of things
like those when he ought to be considering the proposed
measures for the pacification of Ireland, the advisability
of adopting the ballot, the abolition of tests in the
universities, our licensing system, and a dozen other
great topics of the day.'
' Bother politics ! ' said his Grace, lighting his second
cigar since breakfast, and helping himself to some
curacoa from a liquor case; ' I can't stand politics.'
' Can't stand politics ? then you're not a Masborough ;
you are degenerate.'
' You need not be personal, Mr. Whittaker,' inter-
posed the young man. ' I am sensible of the interest
you take in my welfare, but believe me I am quite
capable of looking after my own affairs without help
even from you. I intend to keep race-horses.'
' In an assumed name ? '
' In my own. Bentinck, Derby, Westmoreland, Stam-
ford, Newcastle, and many others, have all done the
same thing. I mean to hunt the county, and live like
a country gentleman - of the Tatton Sykes kind. I
should be out of my sphere in the political arena. I
doubt if I could make a speech except after dinner, and
then there would not be much in it. Do you find any-
thing so very startling in the announcement ? ' asked
' Indeed I do,' replied Mr. Whittaker sadly. ' I see
that you, whom I regarded with as much pride and
affection as if you had been my own son, have made an
evil choice ; really you have. The great name, the
The Evil Genius. 15
histor/cal name of Masborough, instead of being men-
tioned by millions with reverence and esteem, will be
bandied about by turf swindlers and blacklegs. It will
become a bye-word to all who have your welfare at
heart, and a man in your position is the property of his
country. You cannot do what you like with yourself,
and — and — by God you shan't ! '
The duke frowned, but made no answer.
' If I can help it you shall not touch this pitch, which
will defile you. You owe it to my years to respect my
advice. You owe it to your mother to halt before this
abyss,' Mr. Whittaker went on, in the same emphatic
' My dear sir, recollect that you are not speaking to
a schoolboy, and I have no wish to quarrel with you,
' Well, well, well, I must consult with your mother.
This conversation has taken me by surprise,' said the
old gentleman testily.
1 If any of my friends should wish to have a lecture
on the advantages to be derived from being a good boy
I will refer them to you.'
' It is no laughing matter, my dear young friend, as
you will find out to your cost some day. But I will
speak with your mother.'
With these words Mr. Whittaker quitted the room
' You're off in a huff,' was the young nobleman's
comment on his departure.
Oddly enough, as he went out at one door Mr. Hines
entered at another.
' Oh, is it you, Hines ? ' said the duke. ' Whittaker
has been here, giving me quite a moral sermon.'
' I heard every word of it,' answered Mr, Hines
' The deuce you did ! '
16 The Nobleman on the Turf.
1 Yes ; the door was open, and-
' You listened. I must compliment you on your
mode of gaining information, but nothing comes amiss
to you; I never saw such a fellow.'
' I don't mind what I do in your cause, as you know,'
answered Mr. Hines. ' You have had proof of that
before now. What would yon have done at Baden
' For heaven's sake don't recall that incident ! ' in-
terrupted the duke hastily, as he averted his face ; ' you
know it makes me ill. I was a fool, and you got me
out of the mess I was in, after a fashion of your own.'
' Precisely. You could not have stated the situation
better,' answered Mr. Hines. ' And now with regard
to Mr. Whittaker and his sage advice — what do you
mean to do ? '
' Do as I please, to be sure, and pursue a glorious
career on the turf, as I have all along been determined.'
' You have a right to please yourself.'
( Of course I have. My ambition is to fill my side-
board with race-cups and trophies, won by my horses,
and I mean to have the best blood in the world, if I pay
ten times its weight in gold for it.'
' A laudable ambition,' answered Mr. Hines. ' Excuse
me now, will you? I have some letters to write.'
' Shall you be ready in an hour ? I mean to drive
a tandem over to Chester.' asked the duke.
' I will be with you.'
Mr. Hines retired to his own apartment, and having
closed the door muttered —
' I have him safe enough, though I rather feared their
home influence. Such is his ambition. Mine is very
different. When I have feathered my nest sufficiently,
through his folly, I intend to stand for some borough,
and get into Parliament. A man is nothing in this
country without money. If he has none himself he
The Evil Genius. 17
should get it from others. I mean to do so. Once
tolerably well off I will make a name for myself, and
this poor fool may settle down with what is left to him,
and shoot his pheasants, and hunt his foxes, and back
the favourite, and I will back him, that is, I will ride
on his back to fame and fortune.'
Thc Arnotts, who lived at Merrion Hall, in the same
county, were very old friends of the Masboroughs, and
whenever the young duke saw Emily Arnott, he felt
an emotion which he could not disguise. An invitation
given by Captain Arnott, her brother, to spend a week at
Merrion, was readily accepted, and he went as soon as
the festivities consequent upon his return home would
admit of his going. He was rather glad of the oppor-
tunity, in fact, as he was constantly worried by the
advice given him by his mother and Mr. Ommaney
Lane Whittaker, who considered it their bounden duty
to urge him to desist from a career which they felt
would bring him no credit, and might materially damage
his fortune and prospects in life. He had set his mind
upon a sporting life, and on the turf he would go, so he
contented himself with listening wearily to the homilies
of his friends without changing one iota of his purpose.
Mr. Hines was not invited to Merrion, and the duke
seemed pleased to give him the slip, if only for a few
days, so that ho departed from Castle Compton with a
delight he had some trouble in concealing. The Arnotts
received him with open arms, and their welcome was so
genuine, that he could not for a moment entertain the
suspicion that they hoped to make capital out of him in
the way of arranging an alliance between him and the
daughter, though it was known to all that he had been
very fond of Emily before he went abroad.
Emily Arnott. 19
When away from the companionship of Mr. Hines,
and freed from that restraint which the tutor unques-
tionably exercised over him, his spirits expanded, and
he appeared to greater advantage than at other times.
He was merry and jovial ; he talked openly, and was
pronounced an agreeable companion. His stay at the
Hall was made as pleasant for him as the hospitality of
a good old country family could make it, and that is
saying a great deal, for nowhere in the world can so
much enjoyment be derived as in a country house in
' I wonder,' Masborough took an opportunity of
observing to Captain Arnott, ' if your sister thinks of
mo as she did before I went away?'
' I have always heard her mention you with respect,'
replied the captain.
' She is a dear girl,' the duke went on thoughtfully.
Wishing to turn the conversation, Captain Arnott
said, ' So you think of training horses, and running
them on the turf?'
' Who told you so ? '
c I scarcely know. It may have been yourself. I
heard it somewhere.'
' You heard the truth, anyhow,' said Masborough
with a laugh ; ' that is my intention. I was always
passionately fond of horses, and a race has a peculiar
excitement for me, which I can derive from nothing
' It is impossible for me to offer any opinion, of course,'
continued the captain, ' but I question whether it is an
amusement from which a man in your position is likely
to derive any profit or advantage.'
' As for profit, my dear fellow,' answered Masborough,
' I never thought of such a thing. I know racing is
expensive, but if I can't afford to go in for a luxury of
that sort, who can ? '
20 The Nobleman on the Turf.
Captain Arnott said nothing more, and they went in
to dress for dinner. In the evening Emily, who was an
accomplished musician, played and sung. She gave
peculiar charms to ' Ah ! che la morte ! ' and Mas-
borough listened in an abstracted manner to the dying
cadence of her voice.
( I hope my singing does not make you sad,' Miss
He started as if roused from a deep reverie, and
answered, ' A little ; I last heard that air of Verdi's at
' Was the musician's voice so angelic as to impress it
upon your memory ? ' continued Emily, toying with the
keys, and not appearing to exhibit any curiosity.
' She was not an angel, she was a demon,' replied the
duke, Avhose face clouded over fiercely.
' Byron tells us there is a land where all save the
spirit of woman is divine,' said Emily. ' I should so
like to hear the history of your demoniac songstress.'
' I trust you may never hear it, for it would only
distress you. Please ask me no questions. You have
called up memories I wished to bury for ever. "Will
you not kindly go on playing ? '
1 Pray excuse me, I am quite tired,' Miss Arnott
rejoined, with slightly less amiability of manner.
' Thank you Aery much for the pleasure you have
already afforded me,' said Masborough, as he closed the
At this moment Mr. Arnott interrupted their languish-
ing conversation by saying, ' I suppose you do not in-
tend going abroad again, as your Grace has announced
your intention of hunting the county and keeping race-
horses ? '
' No. I have had enough of the continent of Europe,'
said the duke, ' and if I felt inclined to wander again,
I think I should be tempted to run over to America.'
Emily Arnott. 21
' The land that Dickens satirised in Pogram and
Jefferson Brick, where, I have no doubt, a fund of
amusement could be derived from that quarter.'
' At an}' rate I should not be away long. I have
made up my mind to settle down here.'
' Marry and settle,' said the old gentleman, a little
' Perhaps,' said Masborough, venturing to look at
Emily, who cast down her eyes and pretended to look
for her pocket handkerchief.
' Marry ! ' said a voice at the door, ( who is talking
of marriage ? Pray pardon this unceremonious intru-
sion, Mrs. Arnott. I trust 1 may consider myself
welcome. Mr. Arnott, good evening.'
The new arrival was ,Mr. Hines, who shook hands
with every one, taking that of the duke last, who did
not seem well pleased at being disturbed by his un-
' Make yourself at home, Mr. Hines,' said the master
of the house, ' and do not apologise. You find us quite
en famille, and I am sure we shall not find any excuse
to you for being so.'
' You are too good,' answered Hines. ' My imme-
diate object in coming was to inform his Grace that the
duchess is not very well ; bronchitis I am afraid, but
nothing serious. Oh ! dear no, nothing to be alarmed
at. She merely expressed a wish to see our young
friend in the morning. That is all. But, pray may I
inquire who was talking of marrying ? It is such an
interesting subject, especially to young ladies, and I
fear my unexpected appearance on the scene has inters
rupted some important announcement.'
' Not at all,' said Mr. Arnott. ' His Grace was
talking of settling down.'
' Ah ! yes. Very proper,' answered Mr. Hines, in
his insinuating manner. ' But I will venture to say on
22 The Nobleman on the Turf.
his behalf, that he will not undertake such a responsible
step for some time to come. Oh ! no, perhaps not
' I don't think I should ask your opinion, Mr. Hines,'
said Masborough, turning very pale.
' Possibly, no. Possibly, yes,' replied Hines with
the utmost unconcern. ' Put me out of the question
altogether. I am really nobody. If I speak about
eventualities in which you may be concerned, I do so
from a knowledge of your character, gained after long
study. No, my dear fellow, depend upon it, you will
not marry for some time to come.'
As he spoke he looked at Emily, and his dark eyes
seemed to pierce her heart. She shuddered involuntarily
as she encountered the man's glance, and he, perceiving
the shiver run through her, smiled as if in subdued
He was invited to stay at the hall that night, and
agreed to do so, as it was growing late. He knew that
Mr. Arnott was fond of backgammon, and, accommo-
dating himself to this taste, played several games with
him, while the duke, Captain Arnott, and Emily,
formed a little knot by themselves and talked.
' I am sorry you will have to leave us,' said the
' It must be very annoying,' replied Emily, ' to have
one's keeper always after one.'
' What do you mean, Miss Arnott ? ' asked the duke,
' Oh ! Nothing. I alluded to your tutor, Mr. Hines.
I used the wrong word, perhaps.'
' Indeed you did. Hines is not even my tutor now.
He was my travelling companion, and very useful I
found him. Now I employ him as my agent in various
' Really I did not wish to go into an explanation of
Emily Arnott. 23
your connection with Mr. Hines,' said Emily; 'you are
' Upon my word/ began the duke.
' I am sorry the subject should be so disagreeable to
you,' she interrupted. ' Cannot we talk about some-
thing else which you may find more interesting? I
quite agree with my brother that it is extremely un-
fortunate you should be obliged to leave us so soon. I
trust, though, sincerely that her Grace is not seriously
' I should not think so, from Hines's account,' answered
Masborough, biting his lips.
His attitude to Mr. Hines was not improved during
the evening by these remarks, for he was positively
rude to him on more than one occasion, but Hines
smiled in his usual way and appeared not to notice the
When the duke returned for the night, he was
followed into his bedroom by Hines, who lighted a
cigar and sat down by the fire.
' Dreadfully slow in these country places,' he said, as
the young nobleman leant with his back against the
chimney-piece and looked at him. ' London is the
place for you. In town you will be appreciated. You
will take a position at once and a high one.'
' I am as ready and willing to commence the campaign
as yoii are,' said the duke. ' What have you been
doing ? '
' Everything that I thought most conducive to your
interests. You cannot expect to pull off' any very big
thing this year, although I have bought you a few
horses entered for some of the great races, in order
to bring your name prominently before the racing
public. I have written a letter to the Sporting Tele-
graph in your name.'
24 The Nobleman on the Turf.
'"Weights in handicaps. It refers to the races at
Newbridge, and will make you known in Ireland.'
Mr. Hines drew a sporting paper from his pocket
and gave it to Masborough, who read an underlined
paragraph to which his attention was directed.
' At the Newbridge races on Monday we observed a
memorial to obtain the signature of owners of horses
who have run their animals in a handicap steeple-
chase, value 100 sovs., since January 1, 1870, as to
whether they would prefer lOst. or 9st. 61b. should be
the lowest standard for weights in handicaps, and we
hear that only two voted for the former scale, and over
fifteen were in favour of the latter. Amongst the
most strenuous supporters of this rule is the young
Duke of Masborough, an ardent lover of the turf, who
is we hear about to assume a prominent place in the
racing world. We hail this accession to the ranks of the
breeders and runners of horses with much pleasure, as
it is a proof that our leading noblemen do not hold
aloof from the turf, and no one can say that the national
sport is on the decline, when a nobleman possessing
100,000Z. a-year, so it is said, in addition to a great
historical name, comes forward as its champion and
' You are a long-headed fellow, Hines,' said the
' I don't know about that, but I think you are safe in
' I might go all over London and not find a better
agent,' the duke exclaimed, getting gradually into
a better humour.
1 You have a horse entered for the Liverpool.'
' Have I ? What is the name ? '
' Yille d'Orsay, one of the French division. Look
in the first column of the paper and read what they say
Emily Arnott. 25
The duke read the following somewhat to his as-
tonishment : —
' Ville d'Orsay is one of the nicest mares I ever
saw, and a wonderfully clever steeplechaser. Last
year she won the Grand National Hurdle Race at
Croydon in a canter, beating a number of good horses,
and she almost lost Marsyas in a steeplechase at
Shrewsbury. At Warwick last autumn she won the
Warwick steeple-chase after meeting with a mishap
that would have lost the race to nine animals out of ten,
and she fairly walked in for the Grand Metropolitan at
Croydon. She was backed for money to-day, the price
high, and the ardour of her friends does not appear to
be cooling down. This mare has recently become the
property of the Duke of Masborough, which is sufficient
to induce the public to back it to any amount.'
' They seem to mention my name often enough,'
said the duke : ' why is that ? '
< Shall I tell you ?' asked Mr. Hines.
' I wish you would. I am not good at riddles.'
' It is your paper.'
' Yes. I have bought it, and the editor shall take
his cue from me.'
' By Jove, you are a wonderful fellow, Hines ! ' the
duke said, regarding him with undisguised admiration.
i Shall I tell you something else ? '
' As you like.'
' I have taken the liberty of having your house
at Merton, in Lincolnshire, fitted up, and have sent out
invitations in your name to the most influential
members of the aristocracy.'
' For what purpose ? '
' To witness the sport at the Grand National and
Merton Hunt Steeplechases.'
' I did not know there was such a race.'
26 The Nobleman on the Turf.
1 Nor I, until a few weeks ago, when I originated the
fixture. The entries are excellent and numerous. It
will be a splendid affair. I want you to start for
Merton to-morrow to lend your presence to everything.'
' I have not been there since I was a boy. Does the
paper say anything about it ? '
' Our paper ? Yes, of course.'
Mr. Hines pointed out another paragraph, which
' The Grand National and Merton Hunt, near Lincoln,
on Tuesday and Wednesday, will be a very brilliant
affair ; and during the reunion the Duke of Masborough,
on dit, will entertain the Prince of Wales and other dis-
tinguished visitors. The Grand National Hunt Steeple-
chase, on Tuesday, is a contest manifestly framed to
offer encouragement to high-class hunters, and has a
large entry. Among the nominations are Downshire,
who was third in the Two Thousand, and who was
formerly in the Fyfield stable, and supposed at one time
to possess Derby form. The Duke of Masborough has
a couple in Monastery and the Prince (not the Cesare-
wich hero), and the issue may be confined to the three
specified. Downshire is also reported to be trained by
the duke's own hunting groom, and, if the horse has
been converted into a perfect jumper, he is certain to
win. At all events, we shall rely on Downshire and
one of his Grace's (Monastery or Prince). The Merton
Handicap Power or Dormouse will win, and Greenback
or Ptarmigan the Handicap Plate of 100Z. The Lin-
colnshire Hunters' Plate Merrythought should secure.
Wednesday will have for its main attraction the Lincoln
Grand National Steeplechase, which, despite its 500Z.
added, has not a large entry. Sanctus will, perhaps,
not be risked over this big country, but be reserved for
the easier track of Croydon, or otherwise he would have
the duke's own good word.'
Emily Arnott. 27
' You don't let the grass grow under jour feet,' ob-
served the duke. ' I am like Byron, who went to bed
obscure and woke to find himself famous.'
' You do not object at all ? ' asked Mr. Hines.
' Not in the least. I rather like it. If one is to
do this sort of thing, the sooner a start is made the
' I want you to make a book on all the races. If you
have not forgotten my instructions at Baden, you will
not find it difficult.'
' I have the theory perfectly. What are the Derby
horses this year. That is the race to begin with, I
suppose ? ' said Masborough.
' Consult the leader in the paper,' answered Hines.
The duke did so, and was informed.
1 It is a notable fact that the winter has passed without
disturbing the positions of the favourites for the Derby ;
and, indeed, Dinmont and Aristides are firmer than
ever. Flaming reports are circulated as to the great
improvement made by the Russley crack ; and it is the
steadfastly maintained opinion of his former trainer that
the horse will win the double event — Two Thousand and
Derby. Aristides has just gone through a course of
physic, preparatory to putting him into long work for
the Epsom struggle. It is believed to be his owner's
determination to decline the Newmarket Biennial,
and run the son of Storm King and Cloud for no
engagement until the Derby. The Middle Park Plate
hero, like his Russley rival, has made much improve-
ment, and the common impression is that the Berkshire
pair will finish first and second on the Surrey Downs.
Sampson, if he goes on the right way, will split them,
and it has always been my opinion that, barring Riddler,
the scion of Ludovicus was, when Avell, the best two-
year-old in training. Apropos of Riddler, intelligence
from America states that Mr. Strut, a wealthy trans-
28 The Nohleman on the Turf.
atlantic turfite, has sent over a commissioner to offer
3000Z. for this noted animal; but this is not likely
to be accepted if the son of Balderson retains his form,
and has made the ordinary progress. The two great
cracks almost monopolise the Derby betting, and as the
spring advances the prospects of an outsider's triumph
appear to diminish.'
' I could not get your name in this,' remarked Hines,
' as you have no nomination in this year's Derby,
although you will come in handsomely the year after
next, and even next year you will have a chance, as
I have bought a couple of promising two-year-old's for
you. I should make a book on the Lincolnshire Han-
dicap and the Chester Cup. They are most thought of
at present. '
' I don't know that I shall always bother about
making a book,' said the duke, with a yawn of antici-
pated weariness. ' I shall pick out a horse and back
him, trusting to luck. That is easiest.'
' Very well ; do that. See what we say about Lin-
Again Masborough took up the paper and read —
' For the Lincolnshire Handicap 10 to 1 was offered
on the field without a response, while Falkenstein, on
the contrary, was in great request, opening at 100 to 8
and leaving off at a point less taken freely. Bolingbroke
had a coming tendency, 500 to 30 having been booked
in his favour, while Sisyphus also had friends who were
unable to procure better terms. Sempronius was in
better demand than hitherto, but, as bookmakers refused
to make a fraction of advance upon 9 to 1, no business
resulted. The Physician was nominally second fa-
vourite, but offers of 11 to 1 were disregarded, and,
although at first twelve ponies was accepted about the
Skeleton, he left off at 100 to 8 offered. Sunrise's po-
sition it was difficult to guess at for a length of time,
Emily Arnott. 29
but the acceptance of twenty ponies, and several lesser
bets at the same rate of odds, afforded some clue
to the tone of the market, especially as Surrey
could not command a bid at the same price. A few
trifling investments on Hyacinth at 20 to 1 were nego-
tiated after vain attempts to get on at longer odds. The
hostility to Gem was exchanged this afternoon for a
general disposition to back him, 25 to 1 being taken
whenever procurable, while, at the same time, 200 to 5
and 1000 to 30 were booked in well-informed quarters
about his stable companion, Batrakos. Hunter was
frequently inquired after, and anything over 25 to 1
would have brought him a fair amount of support. We
heard Rogue mentioned by a certain influential com-
missioner, but without eliciting an offer. Elevation
was backed to win a couple of thousand pounds at 40 to
1, but layers were not disposed to continue their opera-
tions at that price. The Chester Cup was very flat,
nothing worthy of comment having been done thereon.
The best offer on the field for the Guineas was 900
to 200, while Dinmont was backed for 100Z. at 5 to 1,
and a level hundred betted that he beats Jay. Only two
transactions were recorded on the Derby.'
' I'll plunge on Falkenstein and trust to chance. If
I lose it does not matter ; one must buy one's expe-
rience,' said the duke.
' At all events, you see the time has come to be active.
You could not draw back now if you wanted,' replied
' I have no inclination to do so.'
'Will you start for Merton Hall after seeing your
mother to-morrow, and, when the races are over, go to
Epsom and see the training quarters I have established
there for you ? '
' Yes ; I leave it all to you. I am entirely in your
hands ; do the work as you have begun, let me have the
30 The Nobleman on the Turf.
pleasure and the fun of the thing. I don't care so long
as I'm not bothered,' replied the duke.
' I feel proud of your confidence, and now to bed.
< Good night.'
They shook hands and Mr. Hines went away, feeling
that his position was now thoroughly secure.
NICHOLAS COPER, TRAINER.
Nicholas Coper was a middle-aged man, born at New-
market, who thoroughly understood the training and
management of horses ; he had been engaged by Mr.
Hines as the Duke of Masborough's trainer, and all the
horses which he had purchased were taken to extensive
premises at Epsom, which had been hired for the
purpose of a large training establishment.
The antecedents of Mr. Coper were not such as to
bear inspection ; he liked to have people in his power.
It facilitated any business he might have with them.
If he could put the screw on, they were docile and
obedient when they might otherwise have asserted their
A short time after the conversation recorded in the
last chapter, Mr. Hines and the trainer were seated in a
neatly furnished parlour in the latter's house, which ad-
joined the stables ; on a table stood sundry bottles,
glasses, and a box of cigars.
' I think, Coper, you thoroughly understand me ? '
said Mr. Hines.
' Yes, sir,' answered Coper, ' I think I do.'
' I must have implicit obedience. If I say to you a
horse is not to win, it must lose. The horses under
your care belong to the Duke of Masborough, but you
belong to me.'
The trainer winced.
' It matters very little,' pursued Mr. Hines, ' how I
discovered three years ago you committed a robbery at
32 The Nobleman on the Turf,
Newmarket, and disposed of the notes in London. The
fact remains the same. You did it. You are no less a
thief, Coper, because you have not been publicly exposed
1 1 was drove to it,' said Coper, sullenly.
' Possibly ; criminals generally have some excuse to
urge in extenuation of their offence. You are no excep-
tion to the general rule, and if it is a salve to your
conscience to think that you were compelled to break
the laws of your native land, by all means continue to
' It's no use reminding me of what's past and gone,'
said Coper, with the same dogged air, as he helped him-
self to some more brandy and water.
1 Yes, it is of use,' persisted Mr. Hines, who rather
enjoyed the way in which the man writhed before him.
' It's not past and gone as you observe. It is ever
present to me and to you. If you do not obey me as if
you were my slave, I shall make the fact of your having
been a thief unpleasantly patent to you. I do not say
this to hurt your feelings, but to make you thoroughly
understand your position.'
' The duke's horses, sir, shall be run just as you
order ; will that do ? '
' That is more reasonable ; and mind, no resistance,
no kicking over the traces. I am going in to make
money, and by watching my game you may do the
' Thank you kindly, sir.'
' I suppose you have seen a few strange things in
your time, Coper?' pursued Hines, picking a cigar out
of the box.
' Well, I may say a few, sir,' answered Coper with
a quiet chuckle.
' Perhaps you are not indisposed to favour me with a
little of your experience?'
Nicholas Coper, Trainer. 33
' Not at all, sir. I've seen some strange rigs on the
turf, and that's a fact. If you want villany that's
naked, as we may say, you must go on a racecourse for
it. I think the turf's done a great deal to elevate and
reduce to a science, as it were sir, the crime of the
country. I've seen drunkenness, embezzling, late
hours, bad company, loss of situation, broken homes,
broken hearts, property sold, gambling, fighting and
murder, ay, even murder, all come of what people call
attendance at race meetings, and it's my opinion that
Government would have to shut up some of the prisons
if there was no horse-racing. It may seem odd to hear
such an opinion coming from me, for I'm not a senti-
mental or a moral sort of a cove at all, but if I can't
bring a sound judgment to bear upon it, having been in
it all my life, who can ? '
1 1 can't agree with you,' answered Mr. Hines. ' The
turf is an arena worthy of the attention of noblemen
and gentlemen. It is a national pastime, and a little
judicious wagering can do no one any harm.'
' That's it, sir. You can do it, oh ! you're a deep
'un,' cried Mr. Coper, rubbing his hands and laughing
as if at a great joke.
' Did not you train once for Mr. Deadsell ? '
' Yes, and I can tell you how we got hold of some
money over an event which did not look promising.
The governor had a horse entered for a small race,
called Grasshopper, and he was so good that no one
would lay against him. I thought we had better
scratch the horse as we could not get on at anything
like a decent price — we were forestalled everywhere, but
the governor did not like to put the pen through his
name and put on his considering cap instead. The end
of it was that he went to Mr. Bates, who is a sharp
man and thinks he knows a thing or two. He says to
Bates, that he was hard up and wanted a couple of
34 The Nobleman on the Turf.
thousand. Bates asks him for the security, not liking
personal security, and Deadsell offers him the horse.
' " Grasshopper is a good animal and can win the Cup
if he likes," he says, " and I'll mortgage him to you."
' " Sell him outright," says Bates.
' " No ; I won't do that. I'll mortgage him to you,
and if the money is not repaid he shall be your property
within a given time."
1 " Say three months," suggests Bates.
' " No. Put it like this. If I do not give you the
money anytime on the morning of the race or before it,
the horse is yours. If I do, though the bell may be
ringing to clear the course at the time, the horse is mine."
' " All right," says Bates, and Deadsell goes away
with a cheque in his pocket.
' Deadsell did not want the money, you know, sir,
though he kidded Bates he did, and Bates thinking he'd
never be able to redeem the animal, and that his hopes
was to win money by backing the horse, and that he
wanted the coin to put on, made up his mind to lay
against the horse everywhere, and pull him. Accord-
ingly he got his own jockey and gave him instructions
how to ride, while he put out commissions everywhere
to bet against Grasshopper, and wherever there was
any money to be had, Deadsell took him. By this
means we got on a very tidy sum. We knew what
Bates' game was, but he did not know ours, no, not so
much as a ha'p'oth even. When the day of the race
came the two met on the course.
'"How do?" says Bates. "Want to back your
1 " Don't mind for a thou., take you to a thou.," replies
' « Done, with you. Who's the next ? "
' " Stop a minute, I've some money for you," Deadsell
Nicholas Coper, Trainer. 35
' « What for ? "
' " The horse. I want him back again- Here are
twenty, hundred pound notes ; take them, and here's
( Bates turned white, and said —
' "After the race will do, don't be in a hurry."
' '• Now, I say; I want my horse," Deadsell continued.
' When Bates saw the game was up, he grew frantic ;
he couldn't help giving the horse up, you know, and
we at once took possession of him. I stood over him,
till the jock mounted, and kept a loaded pistol in
my hand. Well, Bates wired to all parts of the
country to try and hedge, but it was no go. We ran
the horse square and won easy. That caper nearly
bust Mr. Bates up, it did, and he's never been the same
since. If you want to rile him, ask him if he'll advance
anything on equine security ; he'll go mad, horseflesh
ain't good enough for him, oh, no ; not by a long way.'
Mr. Hines laughed, and in listening; to the trainer's
experience the afternoon passed ; he then returned to
town, going first to his office in Jermyn Street. He
called himself a financial agent, which is a term to cover
any swindling transaction a man chooses to embark in,
just as every man of straw, who turns builder and fails,
calls himself in his petition to the Court of Bankruptcy,
C.E., as if he were a civil engineer, because he had
erected half a dozen brick monstrosities in the suburbs,
with other peoples' money, which he is pleased, in the
extravagance of his imagination, to designate villas.
ME. S. HINES,
looked well on a brass plate, and he rather flattered
36 The Nobleman on the Turf.
himself upon the ingenuity of the idea. Financial
agent was deliciously vague ; he might be a money
lender, or the promoter of a company for the irrigation
of the Great Sahara, or the levelling of the Carpathian
As he passed through the outer office he saw two
people waiting for him, but taking no notice of them,
he walked quickly into his own room, opened some
letters which lay upon his desk, and then struck a call
His clerk entered.
' Who is waiting ? ' he asked.
' Mr. Overset, of the Sporting Telegraph, sir, and
Mr. Pimplepeck,' replied the clerk.
' Show Mr. Overset in.'
A portly gentleman, who had for some years been
connected with the press, and who was haughty enough
to his inferiors, entered the room hat in hand, and
bowing politely as a tribute of respect to so important a
personage as the agent of the rich Duke of Masborough.
' Well, Overset, what is it ? ' cried Mr. Hine ; < I'm
busy, and you must not keep me to-night.'
' I have brought a proof of the account of the meeting
at Merton, sir, thinking you would like to see it before
we go to press. If you will glance your eye over it,
sir, I will wait, as we go on the machine at ten to-
night,' answered the editor.
Hines took the slip and read it over carefully.
It was headed, ' Merton Hall Steeple-chase, by our
Special Reporter,' and began, ' We are indeed fortunate
in being able to chronicle such sport and such an
attendance as has seldom distinguished a country
meeting of late years. No one can fail to see that in
the Duke of Masborough a nobleman has risen up
amongst us who is determined to regenerate the turf,
and place it on a high level, which will silence the voice
of all carping cavillers.'
Nicholas Coper, Trainer. 37
' Don't like that,' said Hines, pointing with his pen
to the passage.
' What, sir? Carping cavillers? Fine line, sir.'
' Alter it.'
' Say — of all those who predict its fall in public
esteem ? '
< That will do.'
' Public esteem — right, sir,' said the editor, making
the necessary correction. The article went on. ' With
such a name, with such a fortune, and with such truly
national tastes, the Duke of Masborough cannot help
being in an incredibly short space of time the most
popular man in the country, nor will he by encouraging
the breeding of horses be a slight benefactor to the
land. A brilliant gathering of the aristocracy collected
at Merton on Tuesday, and we do not recollect having
seen so much beauty and so many well-known stars in
the world of fashion for a long space of time. The
urbanity of his Grace was observed by every one, and
the irresistible charms of his manner admitted by both
ladies and gentlemen.
'A large attendance of professionals and the outside
public testified still further to the popularity of the
Merton Hall Meeting, and the attraction that steeple-
chasing has for pleasure-seekers. The weather being
delightfully fine, the sport was enjoyed under the most
satisfactory circumstances, and every one appeared de-
lighted at the successful manner in which the meeting
had been carried out. The card contained six races,
and at a quarter-past one proceedings commenced with
a Selling Handicap Hurdle Race, Pillory and Oberon
being the two absentees from the seven animals entered.
Miss Fanny was installed favourite from the commence-
ment of the betting, and she left off in strong demand
at 5 to 4. Chatterbox, notwithstanding her easy defeat
recently by Stone, found plenty of friends willing to
38 The Nobleman on the Turf.
invest on her chance at 2 to 1. Neither Earl nor West-
haven was fancied, and the last-named after landing
over the hurdle at the stand broke down so badly that
his jockey at once dismounted. The Earl and Chatter-
box raced away side by side in advance of the others
till within half-a-mile of home, where the last-mentioned
was beaten, her display harmonising only with the
feelings of those who had laid against her. The
favourite then took the lead and appeared to be winning
in a canter, but Astrologer came on hand over hand,
and taking the lead at the distance, won in a common
canter by four lengths. He was entered to be sold for
50 sovs., but there was no bid for him.
' Astrologer being the property of the Duke of Mas-
borough, his victory was very popular with the crowd,
and his triumph is considered a good omen for the new
' The Open Handicap Steeple-chase came next, and
being the most important event of the meeting it was
regarded with considerable interest. Although there
were twenty animals coloured on the card, but five put
in an appearance, his Grace, who had three entered,
being represented by Wi?hing Cap. Oat-straw was
the top-weight of the handicap, but his absence created
no surprise, notwithstanding the reports that had been
circulated to the effect that ho would be sent to the
post. Elk arrived on Monday to fulfil his engagement,
but his owner disposed of him on the following day to
Lord Charles Ibbetson ; the price did not transpire.
Although Wishing Cap was penalised 101b., raising his
weight to 12st. 61b., his admirers were confident in his
ability to carry the crushing impost successfully, and he
accordingly started a hot favourite at 5 to 4. Brewer,
however, had a strong body of friends who backed him
very freely, and after all the money had been absorbed
at 4 to 1, a point less was accepted about his chance.
Nicholas Coper, Trainer. 39
Old Acres was in great demand also, being backed for
a good stake down to 4 to 1 . Flyer was not at all
fancied, but 100 to 8 was several times accepted about
Tomabawk. For the first mile and a half of the journey
the pace was wretchedly bad. Brewer, who had been
making the running, increased the speed considerably,
and the last time round it was noticed that its rider
had to bustle the favourite along to make him go the
pace. Half a mile from home he closed up, and for a
hundred yards it appeared as if he could overhaul the
leader, but, succumbing under the heavy weight, he
was unable to maintain his place. The Brewer, full of
running, increased his lead after clearing the last fence,
and won in a canter by half a dozen lengths from Flyer.
The contest was remarkable for the few changes that
occurred in the respective positions of the competitors,
who ran from end to end almost as they finished. The
winner used to be trained at Newmarket, and was at
one time looked upon as likely to be a " good thing." He
was greatly fancied to-day by many good judges on the
form he displayed at Croydon last November, when he
gave 161b. to Chamberlain and beat him easily for the
Hunters' Stakes. The Merton Steeple-chase brought
out four runners from the half-dozen entered, and
although Temperance was meeting the Gardiner on
111b. worse terms, her victory over him lately was
considered to have been gained so easily that her ad-
mirers laid odds of 11 to 10 on her. The Gardiner was
backed freely at 5 to 2, and as " weight will tell," he
was enabled to turn the tables on his conqueror of the
preceding day. The Hurdle Race Handicap resulted
in the easy victory of Spring over his stable companion,
Regulus, both of whom were very heavily backed.
Money, however, started favourite at 2 to 3, but she
could perform no better than last year ; indeed, she
could only get third. Simpleton at one time was freely
40 The Nobleman on the Turf.
backed, particularly at the "lists," at 5 to 1, but he was
not fancied at the finish ; indeed, 100 to 8 " bar three "
was freely offered. For the two-miles Steeple-chase
Plate half-a-dozen animals contended, and Alice, Harts-
hill, and Blessington were in such request that it was
difficult to say which was favourite. At the close,
however, Alice just had the call at 2 to 1, and she
justified this confidence by winning in a canter ; indeed,
any odds were offered on her when more than half-a-
mile from home. Hartshill, however, would have been
a thorn in her side had she not fallen, but although Mr.
Stoney Hines, her owner, who rode her in the most
plucky manner, eliciting universal applause, remounted
immediately, he could never make up the lost ground.
The Maiden Steeple-chase Plate brought out a capital
field, there being no fewer than ten runners from the
seventeen animals entered. Egyptian was made a very
hot favourite at 7 to 4, but Pyramus, whom many
shrewd judges supported at 4 to 1, won in a canter by
half-a-dozen lengths, the race, however, being well con-
tested until within a quarter of a mile of the finish.
There were a few bets laid on the Grand National
during the afternoon, and the Lincoln Handicap was
mentioned. Several members of the aristocracy are
staying at the Hall, and many others were regaled at
luncheon by his Grace, who fully sustained the character
of the Dukes of Masborough for hospitality. Altogether
we have had to chronicle a most enjoyable and suc-
cessful day's sport.'
' Rather long, but it will do,' said Mr. Hines, handing
the proof back to the editor.
' Any further instructions, sir ? ' inquired Mr.
' Not now ; let me see you on Saturday.'
The editor bowed again and took his departure.
Again the bell sounded, and Mr. Pimplepeck was
Nicholas Coper, Trainer. 41
ordered to come in, which he did in a somewhat nervous
manner. He was a youth of anything but ingenuous
appearance, for there was a sly look about his restless
eyes. He had an unpleasant way of paying constant
attention to a mole on his neck, which he was perpetu-
ally picking and irritating till it got into a state of
inflammation terrible to contemplate. He was tall and
thin, neatly dressed, and chiefly remarkable for a shiny
hat, and boots very much down at heel.
' You are the gentleman who advertised for a situ-
ation, and to whom I wrote, I presume?' said Mr. Hines.
' Yes, as secretary to a nobleman or gentleman,'
answered Mr. Pimplepeck, quoting from his adver-
' What are your qualifications ? '
' I am a B.A., London.'
' Have you done anything disgraceful ? ' asked Mr.
' Sir ! ' cried Mr. Pimplepeck, working away at his
mole with more energy than ever.
' Have you done anything disgraceful ? ' repeated
' Do you wish to insult me, sir ? '
' I will put it another way. Should you have any
objection to do anything disgraceful if you were paid
for it. Let us understand one another,' said Mr. Hines,
employing his favourite phrase.
' Not if I was paid for it,' replied Mr. Pimplepeck,
leaving his mole alone for a moment in his astonish-
ment at this peculiar mode of address.
' That is what I wanted to know. If I engage you
for a nobleman, who is a friend of mine and wants a
secretary, you will have to play the spy upon him ; to
be my paid spy, in fact. I must have copies of all his
private correspondence, and you must tell me every-
thing that comes under your notice which you may
42 The Nobleman on the Turf.
think will interest me. You will have to worm your-
self into his confidence in order to betray him, and do
dirty work generally.'
1 For which '
' You will be paid three hundred a year, and can
have the first quarter in advance. Remember one
thing, though ; if I catch you at any double dealing,
and find that you are not my slave in fact and in deed,
you will be instantly dismissed. I am a dangerous man
to trifle with, Mr. Pimplepeck.'
Mr. Pimplepeck thought so too, and worked away at
his mole again.
< Well !' ejaculated Mr. Hines.
' I accept the situation, sir,' said Mr. Pimplepeck.
' On my terms ? '
' On your terms.'
' Very well, call on me the day after to-morrow, at
nine. I like early men, Mr. Pimplepeck. '
' So do I, sir. Expect to see me. Good evening.'
And Mr. Pimplepeck, who was a man of business,
took his leave.
' Now I think everything is complete, and my lord
duke may start along the road to ruin as soon as is
agreeable to him,' soliloquised Mr. Hines.
He was indeed a clever fellow, and knew how to
spread his net for an unsuspecting and foolish victim as
well as any scoundrel who has ever flourished for a
time on his ill-gotten gains.
' kempson's warning.'
Mr. Pimplepeck occupied chambers in New Inn, and
thither he repaired after his interview with Mr. Hines.
His laundress had prepared tea for him, and he lighted a
pipe and sat down in his arm-chair to reflect upon his
' It matters very little to me what I do so long as I get
the money,' he muttered. 'What use has my education
been to me ? I can write and manage to subsist by my pen,
but what a subsistence it has been after all ! Far better
be a backwoodsman in the States, or an iron-puddler in
Staffordshire. I can't afford to be scrupulous, and if
Mr. Hines pays me, I will serve him as long as it suits
There was a knock at the door. He rose and ad-
mitted Mr. Overset, who was a friend of his, and had
looked in to know how he had succeeded with Mr.
Hines. On hearing the result of his interview he
' I was about to offer you a berth as my sub-editor,'
said Mr. Overset, ' but it is no use now.'
' These things always come when one doesn't want
them,' remarked Mr. Pimplepeck a little bitterly, as he
attacked his mole.
1 I never was so worried with a staff in my life,' con-
tinued Mr. Overset. ' My sub. has got D. T., and fancies
himself a steam-engine. He swings his arms about till
he gets up the steam, and then he rushes at any one or
44 The Nobleman on the Turf.
anything that happens to be in his way. He insulted
our special sporting commissioner to-day, by calling
him an inflated tout and charging him full butt, hitting
him in the stomach and quite knocking him out of time, as
the special is rather stout, and cannot stand a fly on his
waistcoat. We got him off home at last, but he'll break
out, and I should not be surprised if he came down in
the middle of the night and steam-engined into the
composing room and upset all the formes. Our adver-
tising agent's not much better. The last I had settled
us, and this is a new man I put on last week.'
' I saw him at your office last week, I think ; a tall
man, with an extensive tawny beard, and a rather
pompous manner. Pink and white in the face like a
Madame Tussaud's waxwork.'
' That's the fellow. Read this letter I have just re-
ceived from him; pleasant, isn't it, when advertisements
are the backbone of the paper ? '
' It's the duke's paper though, isn't it, and he doesn't
care whether it pays or not ? ' said Mr. Pimplepeck.
' Mum as to that,' answered Mr. Overset cautiously.
' At all events, one is expected to do one's best for one's
' I suppose Mr. Hines has engaged me for the duke ? '
' Most likely. You will know the day after to-morrow,
and if so, we shall both be in the same swim.'
Mr. Pimplepeck took the letter offered him and
read : —
' It is now some days since you did me the
honour to appoint me one of your agents for procuring
advertisements. I have commenced my canvass ; it is
an honourable occupation. I like it much. Thursday
saw the conclusion of our agreement. I come of a
diligent family, but I like to start on a Monday ; this
Kemj>son's Warning. 45
the first day of the week looks well ; during the in-
tervening time I matured my plans. I was not idle,
far from it. I looked over the papers and made a list
of names of those I thought likely to go into the
" S.T."' My adventures have been startling. I have
not pulled off anything yet, but I have several big
orders in hand. One for a very large amount will
astonish you, but I am not at liberty to speak fully
at present. On Monday I got up early and left my
home — my address is 8, Carthusian Buildings, Charter-
house Square, E.C. I like being central — under my
arm was a bundle of Sporting Telegraphs- My first
point was a great mourning emporium in Regent Street.
With a bounding heart I crossed the Viaduct — splendid
work of art the Viaduct, but rather suggestive in its
surroundings of Strasburg after the bombardment.
When I reached the emporium, I entered fearlessly;
my attire and general appearance induced the young
gentleman behind the counter to regard me as a
customer. I flatter myself my get-up is faultless,
sealskin vest, this style, 17s. 6<i., Sydenham trousers,
great coat trimmed with Astrachan fur, do^-skin
gloves, small cane, Gribus hat. Good thing, a Gribus
hat, will stand the rain. In reply to a question as to
what I might please to want this morning, I intimated
a wish to see the proprietor. The great man was sitting
at a desk in a corner. I am afraid his eggs and bacon
had not agreed with him that morning, he looked
bilious, and he was cross; he demanded my business as
I approached him. In an insinuating tone I told him
that I came on a little matter of advertising. " Call
again in a month," he replied, " we are not spending
money now. What's your paper?" " The Sporting Tele-
graph,"' said I. "Hum!" said he, as if he had never
heard of it. Benighted being ! " It's no use now,
look in again," he continued. Determined not to be
46 The Nobleman on the Turf.
abashed, I exclaimed, " Allow me, sir, to parade before
you the advantages which this periodical beyond all
others offers. The circulation is over half a million,
and the King of Prussia has ordered fifty quires
for distribution among the troops before Paris.
We penetrate the palace, and we do not disdain the
cottage. The toil of the labourer is soothed by the
perusal of our pages, and the haughty aristocrat melts
into a smile," when I stopped suddenly, for the great
man had vanished through a side door, and I had only
an audience of tittering assistants. However, his ex-
planation was perfectly satisfactory, he was not spend-
ing money, so I thought it was best to wend my way,
and I wended. The next on my list Avas a wine
merchant. I like wine merchants. One gave me a
tasting order for the docks years ago. The fumes of
the wine got into my legs. I went home in a cab ; but
this is a digression. The establishment was called the
" Losaga," I do not know why. Perhaps it is Spanish
for something nice. There were casks all round the
place. There was a bar in the centre, and barmaids.
Pretty girls as a rule, barmaids ; I like them much.
It was my intention only to stay a few minutes. I had
a long list of names to collect. I considered myself in
treaty with the proprietor of the mourning emporium, as
he had asked me to call again. It is a good thing to be
in treaty with a large house. I could not spare much
time, I belong to a diligent family, and I am full of
work. Sherry is tempting, especially when dry. I
was dry, and would try some. Just a glass. It is not
my custom to imbibe before ten in the morning, but it
was close upon that hour. I imbibed. The sherry was
good ; I imbibed again, feeling that my courage re-
quired stimulating. I was new to the business. I am
deficient in impudence ; it is my only failing. I
inquired for the proprietor, and hoped that he was
Kempsoris Warning. 47
spending money, or if he was not, I was. He was out,
but the manager was in ; lie was pointed out to me,
a tall, thin man, sitting on a cask. With a bow I
informed him that I represented a newspaper of vast
influence. He was happy to be informed of the fact.
Would he go in ? He thought I meant, would he take a
drink, and he ordered an old port. I did not like
to hang back, so I also ordered an old port. Very nice
place, the " Losaga," they sell good stuff. He drank,
he looked at my paper, our paper, and he laughed. I
thought this a good sign. " What is your sale price?"
said he. I informed him. " Very good medium, I
should think," said he. "Excellent!" I answered,
" finest in the world ; take half a page ? " "Well, I don't
mind if I do," he said, and he handed his glass to
the nearest barmaiden. He mistook my meaning ; no
matter, I paid. Very nice place, the " Losaga." Port
especially commendable, though rather heavy at ten in
the morning. Bitter is more my form. The manager
at length said he could do nothing without the pro-
prietor, would I wait ; he would be in about one. I
waited. We had more drinks. I paid for them. At
twelve o'clock I came to the conclusion that the manager
was a most incarnate sponge, he absorbed. However we
were good friends. He said it would be all right ; I felt
all wrong. At one o'clock I saw two managers and the
pretty barmaids were multiplied in my eyes. I tore
myself away, but I am in treaty with the " Losaga." Nice
place, the "Losaga," but rather insinuating. I concluded
not to do any more work that day, so went home in
a cab, to think over to-morrow's campaign. You shall
have full particulars. My landlady opened the door to
me as I could not find my key. In the evening I had
some tea. I feel that I shall do a great deal of business
for you, as I come of a diligent family, and know how
to represent things. I have great confidence in the
48 The Nobleman on the Turf.
future ; we shall do big things together, as I mean
business. I beg to subscribe myself your faithful can-
' I should call him a very valuable man to have on
the staff, and decorate him with the universal Order of
the Sack and Bullet,' remarked Mr. Pimplepeck.
' I shall at once, never fear,' replied Mr. Overset,
who, looking round him, saw some sheets of paper
' Something new ? ' he added ; ' may I look ? '
' If you like,' answered Pimplepeck, filling his pipe.
( It's not much. I sent the tale to a magazine, and
the editor with that charming liberality which dis-
tinguishes his class sent it back again. Perhaps he was
right. Perhaps it wasn't worth printing. At all events
I have turned it to account by altering the finish so as
to suit the enterprising firm of Clapper and Treadle,
the sewing-machine makers, who are going to use it as
a L. ill. It may be a degradation of the author's art,
but one must keep the pot boiling, and after all, to raise
the standard of advertisers' English is doing good to
the community at large. I think I am entitled to
credit for such an ingenious idea. Read it and tell me
what you think of it. There isn't much of it. First
you have the straightened circumstances at home, res
angusta domi you know ; then emigration, then the
wreck, then the savages, and finally the puff insidious.
Mr. Overset cast his eyes over the MS. and read —
Times were bad in England.
James Hudson was a dockyard hand, and when the
ministers of the Crown thought it advisable to reduce
the establishments of the country, he with others was
discharged. Now a shipwright is not a man who can
easily find employment.
He thought of going to the banks of the Clyde, but
Kmipson's Warning. 49
learnt that the yards there were over-crowded. Ship-
building on the Thames was in a state of stagnation.
So James Hudson remained at Woolwich, with the gaunt
spectre of coming starvation staring him in the face.
He could not adopt Earl Russell's motto, ' Rest, and
To be up and doing was his wish. Activity was his
It was hard to see his household goods going one by
one to the pawnbrokers for that daily bread which,
through no fault of his own, he was debarred from
At last, in sheer desperation, he bethought him of
the Emigration Commissioners, and made an appli-
cation to be sent out somewhere. He was successful.
Dearly as he loved his country, he preferred expatri-
ation to the workhouse, and determined to leave his
His wife said she would go anywhere with him.
They had no children, so they sold what furniture re-
mained to them, and quickly make their preparations.
Australia was the colony to which he was to be sent,
and though he had no clear idea of what he would do
when he got there, he was ready to turn his hand to
anything and everything.
The good ship, ' Golden Star,' sailed in the autumn
from the London Docks, with several emigrants and a
She made a prosperous voyage until she had per-
formed two-thirds or thereabouts of the journey, when
a storm arose which disabled the ship.
The vessel drifted towards the land, which was said
by the officers to be inhabited by savages.
Some took to the boats and were never heard of
more ; others remained on board till the ' Golden Star '
drove on the rocks and became a total wreck.
50 The Nobleman on the Turf.
Hudson and his wife clung to a spar, and, praying to
heaven for protection and deliverance, were washed
They of all the ship's company and passengers were
the only ones fortunate enough to reach the land.
Almost immediately they were surrounded by
savages, half naked, and of a ferocious aspect, who by
signs gave them to understand that they were prisoners.
A party escorted them inland to a town composed of
rudely- constructed huts, and after allowing them some
food, consisting of the flesh of wild animals and rice,
compelled them to work in various menial occupations.
The unhappy captives saw that they were doomed to
a life of slavery, and their tears fell fast.
Other of the natives proceeded in canoes to the wreck,
a> soon as the violence of the storm had moderated, and
brought to shore such of the cargo as they were able
Thev obtained in this way a large quantity of calico
and cotton prints in pieces, some of which they tore up,
and fantastically arrayed their bodies in.
' If 1 onlv had a needle and cotton,' said Mrs. Hud-
son when she saw that, ' I might make clothes for the
But such things as needles and cotton had never been
seen in the country since human beings existed on it.
A few days afterwards they saw the chief standing in
perplexity before something, which excited his liveliest
He b ec k onet ! to James to approach,
a am ■ y ' 1 ne , vei Y cr ied Mrs. Hudson, < if he hasn't got
meTo7n laChlne ! , 1 member there was a consifn-
Se « Go?d2 P sL?' d ' Treadle,B Sil6nt macLines on board
She was right.
The natives had obtained from the wreck a h and .
Kempsons Warning. 51
some sewing machine, manufactured by those celebrated
makers, and with it a box of cottons, needles, and
everything requisite for its proper working for a long
period of time.
Calling his wife, who thoroughly understood its
management, James stood by, while the delighted
natives saw her cut up a piece of cotton printing, and
make a dress for the chief's wife.
This lady was charmed with her new attire.
All the females adopted the new fashion of wearing
something, and Mrs. Hudson was kept in constant
Instead of being treated as slaves, the captives were
given a house to live in, and paid great attention.
They had servants assigned them, and were supplied
with as good provisions as graced the table of the chief.
When the females were clothed the men came in for
their share of the other stuffs, and soon presented the
appearance of a civilised community.
Six months passed, and at the end of that time a
sailing vessel, driven by stress of weather, cast anchor
near the shore.
James Hudson communicated with them by signal.
The captain of the ship sent a boat to shore, and
made arrangements to take the captives on board with
Very sorry were the natives to part with them. Each
brought a present of ivory or gold dust, until James
found himself the possessor of a large treasure.
He bid his kind friends adieu with genuine regret,
and sailed to Sydney, whither the ship was bound, and
there sold his ivory and gold dust for a good round
sum, which enabled him to start in business.
Now he is a rich merchant, and has many ships of
In all their prosperity the husband and wife never
52 The Nobleman on the Turf.
forgot that they owed their success to the accidental
use of one of Clapper and Treadle's silent sewing ma-
We may add, par parenthese, that many others, in a
different way, owe their success in life to the same
indispensable article of domestic use.
But this by the way.
' Very neatly put,' answered Mr. Overset, when he
' Isn't it ? ' said Mr. Pimplepeck, much delighted.
' There is a free and easiness about my style which
woidd, I flatter myself, render me particularly useful to
the sporting aristocracy among whom I am about to
move. I will adapt myself to the stable and write slang
as they talk it, and — '
' What's more to the purpose, if you hear what is
going on in the stable let me know,' interrupted Mr.
Overset ; ' Mr. Hines only tells me what he likes, and
if I could get any direct information from you, all the
better for both of us. I shall know how to turn it to
' Rely upon me. My opinion of Mr. Hines is this.
He is one of those men who will either land himself the
owner of ten thousand a year in somebody else's ances-
tral domains, or in Newgate.'
' That's no business of ours.'
' Not in the least. I'll drink his health.'
< So will I. '
Mr. Pimplepeck and Mr. Overset being quite in
accord, shook hands and fraternised exceedingly. The
former was so much pleased with the prospect before
him that he led his mole a very hard life of it for the
next two minutes, and when he left off his delicate
attention, it glowed like a fiery coal.
We have now given a brief account of Mr. Nicholas
Coper, Mr. Overset, and Mr. Pimplepeck, trainer, editor,
Kempson-s Warning. 53
and secretary. Such were the tools Mr. Hines had
chosen to work with.
Meanwhile the time passed on.
The Duke of Masborough became as notorious as
ever he could wish, and his name was continually in
everybody's mouth for some wild escapade or other.
Mr. Hines ran his horses as he pleased and made
money, while the duke, it need scarcely be said, lost it.
As an instance of how he was made use of by in-
different scoundrels, we will relate an anecdote of what
befel him in one of those nocturnal resorts where night
birds and scamps congregate to drink bad champagne,
and think that they are leading a fast life and doing the
The duke was sitting upon a luxuriously cushioned
divan. The room was crowded. The time half-past
twelve. He had a friend by his side. The gas was
glaring, also champagne flowing. A betting man of
the lowest order and a professed pugilist dropped his
hat in front of the duke and said in an insolent tone, —
' Masborough, pick up my hat ! '
The duke's blood rushed to his face, and rising in-
dignantly he trod on the hat, crushing it out of shape.
That done, he resumed his seat. It being the eve of
the Ascot Cup the place was crowded, and the people
present looked forward with pleasant anticipation to
1 Your Grace has insulted me ! ' said the betting-man,
whose name was Clincher, ' and if you don't want me
to punch your head here, you will come into an inner
room and fight me for fifty pounds a side. You're man
enough for that, I suppose.'
The proprietor of the establishment, who, it may be
mentioned, was in this little piece of business, came up,
it having been arranged between him and Clincher a
few minutes previously. His name was Tarpot.
54 The Nobleman on the Turf.
'Better do as he says, my lord,' said Mr. Tarpot;
' you can lick him easy. He can't fight. He's a hully.
A gentleman can always welt a rough. Give him what
he deserves, I'll see fair play. You can have my kitchen'
for a dust up.'
' Very well,' answered the duke, whose blood was on
They went downstairs to the kitchen, and the table
being pushed on one side, they took off their coats and
stood opposite each other.
'Fifty pounds a side,' said Clincher; 'that's under-
stood, isn't it ? '
' Yes, that's all right ; you needn't be in a hurry to
part,' replied Tarpot on behalf of the duke.
They then set to, and Clincher contented himself
with hitting the duke continually on the nose, until
that unoffending member began to swell up in a most
After the tenth round, Mr. Tarpot held up a looking-
glass before Masborough, saying, ' You've copt it on
the nose, my lord ; it's a swelling awful, and to-morrow,
the cup day, you'll never be fit to be seen.'
' I must go,' replied Masborough.
' You can't, my lord, if your beauty's spylt,' returned
' I can lick that ruffian ; I feel sure of it. I'm as
fresh as ever, and he has two black eyes already.'
' Well, if you like to go to Ascot with a nose as big
as a saveloy, my lord, it's no business of mine. I only
thought I'd tell you.'
' Devil take the fellow, I suppose I must let him off.
Give me my coat and a pen and ink ; I'll write him a
cheque for fifty.'
He did so, and handing it to Mr. Clincher, said,
1 Here you are ; I give it you because I am not a black-
guard, and must turn out to-morrow. If it had not
Kempson' s Warning. 55
been for that I'd have pounded your ugly face into a
jelly for you.'
' Your Grace has paid forfeit,' said Clincher, with a
grin, ' and it don't much matter what you say now.'
' Tarpqt ! ' exclaimed the duke, ' I insist upon that
fellow being instantly turned out, and give me some
' Take care of the proboscis, my lord,' cried Clincher,
as he went up the stairs. The duke threw the water
jug at him, but missed his aim. He bathed his nose,
and was soon upstairs again, little dreaming that the
whole affair had been arranged to get fifty pounds out
of him, and that he was purposely only hit on the nose
to disfigure it, and to make him leave off the contest.
But so it was, and an hour afterwards Mr. Tarpot and
Mr. Clincher with mutual satisfaction divided the
Kempson, the Duke's valet, obtained some powder of
a miraculous nature, which was supposed to be an anti-
dote to bruises, and applied it to the injured part, on
his Grace's return to his house in Hill Street, Berkeley
This man was an old servant of the Masboroughs,
and had the greatest possible love and respect for his
On leaving Compton Castle, the duchess had taken
him on one side, saying, ' Kempson, you are a trust-
' I hope so, your Grace,' he replied.
' You will have a great insight to my son's private
life, because you will be always with him. Now I
want you to promise me you will look after him, and
put him on his guard if you see any plot being hatched
for his ruin.'
' I'll do my best,' Kempson said.
' You will promise me this, Kempson ? '
56 The Nobleman on the Turf.
c On the word of a man, your grace.'
The duchess was satisfied, and Kempson felt the
pi'ide of one in whom confidence was placed.
Being a shrewd, keen fellow, he quickly saw that
Mr. Hines had surrounded his master with . his own
creatures, and he kept a particular watch upon Mr.
Pimplepeck, for whom he had a strong aversion.
This evening he exclaimed, as he was arranging the
duke's slippers and dressing-gown for the morning
after his Grace had got into bed, flushed with wine and
' You'll excuse me, I hope, your Grace, if I unburden
my mind a bit ? '
' Give me a soda and B. first, my good fellow, and
I'll listen to you,' answered Masborough.
Kempson did so, and went on. ' I am afraid Mr.
Hines is not altogether square.'
1 He thinks of feathering his own nest, and Pimple-
peck's only a spy.'
1 In what way ? What makes you say that ? ' asked
' Because he often goes to Mr. Hines in the evening
when he leaves here, and gives him notes of what you've
said and done, and ordered him to write. You had
better be on your guard ; if not, your Grace may find
out these men too late.'
'Nonsense, Kempson; you bore me.'
' It is not nonsense,' replied Kempson, doggedly.
' Tell me to-morrow ; I shan't sleep if I'm bothered,'
said the duke.
' Very well ; I've done my duty in warning your
Grace, and if you won't listen to me it's not my
1 Be off, and call me early for Ascot,' cried the duke,
turning over to go to sleep.
Kempson' s Warning. 57
"With a sigh Kempson put out the lights, and went
On the stairs he muttered — ' I promised her Grace I'd
look after him, and I'll keep my word. He's got a pack
of scoundrels about him who are bent on eating him up,
and if that Hines is not a precious villain, I'll never
touch a glass of beer again. Yes, I'll do my best, and
please God I'll save him yet.'
Thus in the person of this poor man-servant did a
mother's love show itself, and he watched over him in
his folly, though he was far from giving him credit for
his affection, nor did he really know what a kind,
generous heart beat under the rough exterior of so
apparently an insignificant person as Kempson.
AFTER TWO YEARS.
A great deal may be done in two years in dissipating
a large fortune, and in the Duke of Masborough's case
a great deal was done.
The duke lost prodigious sums of money, and Mr.
Hines, as a matter of course, reaped the benefit of his
But it happened that certain events occurred for
which Mr. Hines was unprepared, and they eventually
upset all his calculations.
It may be readily imagined that her son's folly caused
the duchess infinite annoyance
In vain she remonstrated with him, and Mr. Whittaker
was equally unsuccessful in his good-natured efforts to
stop his foolish career.
In the midst of his dissipation and folly, it was evi-
dent that Masborough was not happy. He was restless
and uneasy. The obedience which he yielded to Hines
galled him, and his recklessness was that of a species of
One day the duchess, accompanied by Mr. Whittaker,
called upon the duke at his chambers in St. James's.
It was early in the morning, but his Grace was astir,
and his drag stood at the door. A great race in the
neighbourhood of London was to be run that day, and
he had promised to drive a select circle of friends to the
He was glad to see his mother, so he said, and felt
honoured by Mr. Whittaker's visit, but he begged
After Two Years. 59
that they would excuse him, as he had an important
' I cannot excuse you, Arthur/ replied his mother ;
' because I have come on business of a much more im-
portant nature than can possibly take up your time.'
' The old, old story, I suppose,' the duke said, with a
yawn. ' Prodigal son, and all that sort of thing.'
' Not exactly, ' replied the duchess ; ' I have come to
' From what ? '
' The destruction with which you are threatened, and
to release you.'
' Once more, what from ? '
' The thraldom of Mr. Hines — your evil genius.'
' But I do not admit that there is any thraldom,' said
' My dear Arthur, whatever you do and say in the
world, you must not trifle with your mother. You are
in that bad man's power, and you cannot deny it.'
" Well, what have you to say about it ? I will not con-
tradict you,' he remarked, after a pause.
' I know all about his hold over you, and I can free
' Can you indeed ? ' cried Masborough, with a sparkle
of joy in his eyes. ' If you can do that, you will indeed
be my saviour. Tell me what you mean.'
' Armenie Sifllet is dead,' said his mother.
The effect of these words upon the duke was magical.
He fell back in a chair breathing heavily, and was much
Mr. Whittaker had taken no part in the conversation.
Once or twice he had seemed desirous of speaking, but
the duchess waved her hand, so he did not speak.
' Armenie dead,' repeated the duke. ' How do you
know that ? '
' Because Jean, her father, has been to me and re-
60 The Nobleman on the Turf.
lated the whole affair, begging for more money, as Mr.
Hines had overreached himself in stopping the sup-
' Then you know all ? '
' All. I know how you met this girl Armenie in
Baden, and how Hines induced you to marry her in a
moment of infatuation and, shall I say, intoxication,
and then persuaded you to desert her ; I know how he
afterwards told you that she was a woman of infamous
character, and that it would ruin you to acknowledge
her in public, and for that reason you agreed to make
her and her father an allowance, on the understanding
that they should not molest you. This is the secret of
Mr. Hines's power over you, and now that we have
proof of Armenie 's death we can defy him.'
The duke was profoundly affected.
1 My dear mother, I have always known you to be my
best friend, and if I have been wanting in affection or
duty to you, it is entirely owing to the influence of that
man Hines, who has warped me from the proper path.
You do not know what I have suffered.'
' Things might have been much worse,' said Mr.
Whittaker. ' The fact of the marriage can, I believe,
be disputed. You were a Protestant, she a Catholic.
However, the great thing is that she is dead and has no
power to molest you. Mr. Hines is now like a serpent
without a sting.
' Thank Grod,' ejaculated the duke, ' this horrible
artificial life is over. I am deeply indebted to you,
mother, and also to you, Mr. Whittaker, and I fear I
have not always treated you with the consideration such
a kind friend deserves.'
At this moment Mr. Hines entered the room. He
was dressed for the road, having a light dust coat on,
and a case containing race glasses slung over his
After Tico Years. 61
On seeing the duchess and Mr. Whittaker, he bowed
with his accustomed politeness, but only met with a
cool stare in return.
' Mr. Whittaker, will you oblige me by speaking to
this man ? ' said her Grace.
' Certainly, with all the pleasure in the world,'
answered Mr. Whittaker.
' Speak to me ? Did I understand your Grace to say
that you wished this gentleman to speak to me ? ' ex-
claimed Mr. Hines.
' Yes, to you.'
1 Very well. I am at his service.'
Mr. Hines sat down and disposed himself in a careless
attitude to listen to what was coming, not for a moment
expecting that a thunderclap was about to burst over
his head which would annihilate him.
1 In the first place,' said Mr. Whittaker, l you have
acted as the Duke of Masborough's agent. This agency
ceases from this hour, and we shall require an account
from you. If, as we believe, the accounts are defective,
or purposely falsified, they will be examined by com-
petent accountants, and proceedings, if advisable, taken
against you in the Criminal Courts.'
' I don't think his Grace will act thus with me/ said
Hines, with a sickly smile.
' Have I your authority for speaking as I have done,
Masborough ? ' asked Mr. Whittaker.
' Most certainly,' was the duke's reply, in a firm
Going over to his former dupe, Hines hissed in his
' Have you forgotten Baden ? '
'What does he say? We will have no whispering,'
cried Mr. Whittaker.
< He asks me if I have forgotten Baden,' said the
62 The Nobleman on the Turf.
' Do you wish to defy me, all of you? ' cried Hines,
as he glared round the room.
' "We defy you? Yes,' returned the duchess.
< Listen to this. Armenie Sifflet is dead,' Mt. Whit-
' Dead 1 ' gasped the wretched man.
1 We" can prove it. Jean has been with us. She is
dead. We know that you caused my unfortunate son
to marry the poor creature, and you have threatened
him ever since that you will put him face to face in
London society with his wife, if he thwarted you.
Now Armenie is dead, my son can afford to laugh at
your threats. Your power is at an end, and you will
be compelled by the law to give up your ill-gotten
While the duchess was speaking, Mr. Hines grew
He pressed his hand to his head as if in pain.
His accusers waited for some minutes for him to
Then Mr. Whittaker shook him by the arm, ex-
' Have you nothing to say ? '
The man turned a blank expressionless face upon him,
and did not appear to recognise him.
' Send for a doctor. He is going to have a fit or
some dreadful thing,' the duchess said.
A doctor was sent for, and when he came he heard
what had taken place, and having briefly examined Mr.
Stoney Hines, exclaimed —
' The shock of this sudden and unexpected revelation
acting upon a weak and nervous organisation, has been
too much for him.'
' Too much ! ' repeated Mr. Whittaker.
' Yes ; the man is an idiot.'
At this terrible communication, every one turned pale.
After Two Years. 63
The duchess shuddered.
If his faults had been great, his punishment was
Mr. Hines now broke into a loud laugh. The doctor
spoke to him and he gibed and gibbered in return'; he
did not know any one in the room, and his brain seemed
to be as much effaced as a slate which has had the
figures rubbed off it with a sponge.
He was taken away and placed in a lunatic asylum,
where he remained for some years, the Duke of
Masborough paying liberally for his support.
We need scarcely say that after this delivery from
bad hands, the duke sold his racing establishment, keep-
ing only a few favourite horses. Much of the money
that Mr. Hines had robbed him of was returned, and
after all no great harm was done. He had his mother
to thank for his salvation, and he did not fail to show
her that he was grateful for her watchful kindness.
The death of Armenie Sifflet did not grieve the duke
because he had never loved her. Mr. Hines, for his
own purposes, had induced him to marry her, which he
did at an early age, and while half intoxicated.
Mr. Pimplepeck, Mr. Wassett, and Mr. Nicholas
Coper were all thrown out of employment by the
melancholy collapse of Hines. But they were not long
before they found fresh work for idle hands to do in a
The Duchess of Masborough purposely brought her
son in contact again with Miss Emily Arnott.
They had not seen much of one another during the
gap of two years, during which his grace had been
running his career on the turf, and fancying himself a
great man, when as he was in reality a very little one,
acting the part of a puppet, the strings of the fantoccini
being pulled by Mr. Stoney Hines.
Emily freely forgave him for his want of attention,
64 The Nobleman on the Turf.
and, to the delight of his friends, Masborough married
the most charming girl in the country.
So he was saved after all, and one of the grandest old
names in the peerage was not dragged through the mire
of the bill discounter's office and the bankruptcy court.
There was no necessity to write upon an early tomb-
stone, ' He died of sixty per cent.' After his marriage,
his Grace devoted himself to politics, and the outside
public knowing little or nothing about his affairs, be-
lieved that he gave up racing because it interfered with
his wish to be a legislator. His speeches in the House of
Lords were extensively read and much admired, and
Mr. Ommaney Lane Whittaker says, with a smile of
satisfaction, ' I always knew that Masborough could
not prove untrue to the traditions of his race.'
UNDER THE TERROR ;
A WIFE WITHOUT A HUSBAND.
THE ORDER OF THE DAY.
0> T the 19th of December, 1793, the Republican army
entered Toulon. On the following morning an order
of the day, issued by the representatives of the people,
strictly enjoined the inhabitants of the city to repair at
a certain hour to a large open space, named the Field
of Battles. To this order there was no exception.
Never before had such an arbitrary and apparently
purposeless decree been issued. Men, women, and
children, all were to go. In addition to this, every-
body was to leave the door of his or her house open, so
that patrols, told off for that purpose, could go from
street to street and make a house-to-house examination,
to satisfy the representatives of the people that none of
the population, defying their decree, were concealed in
On the 21st of December, in obedience to the order,
the entire population went to the place designated.
No wonder that they were disquieted, and that one
66 Under the Terror.
man scarcely looked another in the face. Eumour as
usual was rife, but, although the most alarming reports
were in circulation, no one could speak with any certainty
as to the object of this collection in mass. The times
were troublous, and the general idea was that a whole-
sale pillage was contemplated. So men whispered to
one another. Even influential citizens were afraid to
speak loudly, for so many informers, and red-hot Re-
publican agitators, were about, that a few chance
words might give a spy sufficient ground whereon to
found a charge of treason.
In a word, the people were maddened by this newly
found liberty, and the excesses which the Republic
allowed them to plunge into all over the country. For
this the late government was to blame. France had
been shamefully mismanaged, and the people had much
to avenge. Unfortunately, to let loose an infuriated
public is like raising a floodgate without the means
to close it against the torrent of water that you re-
The idea of general pillage found many supporters,
because, the city being denuded of its inhabitants, all
the shopkeepers being away, and no one left to protect
property, the valuable goods would be at the mercy of
the soldiery, if they chose to act the part of brigands.
It must be recollected that the Republic had a grudge
against Toulon. The conduct of the people had occa-
sioned the country an immense and almost an irreparable
loss, for it was alleged against them that they had
given to the English its navy and its arsenal, with
all the vast stores contained within it. It could be
easily understood that the principal citizens would pre-
fer a universal system of plundering to the sanguinary
executions to which every part of France was now
subjected. Those who entertained this view schooled
themselves to find their houses ransacked and rendered
The Order of the Day. 67
desolate on their return, and, in some instances, it was
almost laughable to see what miserable countenances
those had who tried to be most calm and philosophical
under their contemplated misfortune.
Certainly the order was a startling one, but those
who had been most guilty in betraying their country
by their incapacity and cowardice were most happy in
the expectation that their houses would be plundered
and their lives spared, for a man can scrape wealth and
furniture together, though he be reduced to poverty, if
his life be given him. All they were afraid of was
being killed. No man's life was safe. The guillotine
was rampant, and reared its ghastly head everywhere.
Xo one could make sure to-day of having his head on
his shoulders to-morrow. People remembered what
had taken place at Lyons. Resistance was futile.
Every one walked with an air of resignation. Calamity
stared them in the face. This hour they lived, the next
they might be dead, or penniless.
As a matter of fact, this was one of the most unheard
of and surprising phenomena of this extraordinary
epoch. A single man, condemned to death, may not
have the spirit to resist the executioner, but a large
body of men might be expected to attempt rebellion
against an arbitrary decree, which possibly meant
extermination. Possibly the fault, which may be called
a crime, weighed upon the consciences of the population
of Toulon, for they did not endeavour to resist. At the
given time every one had come to the vast enclosure of
the Field of Battles, and, when all were assembled, the
exits were closed and guarded by armed men.
The Toulonaise were prisoners, and several pieces of
cannon were turned towards them, the mouths gaping
at their midst, threatening to pour in their iron hail at
the least movement manifested by the crowd. In ad-
dition to this, a double row of soldiers, with fixed
68 Under the Terror.
bayonets, encircled them, as if to complete the work
which the artillery might leave unfinished.
A silence resembling that of the grave fell upon all
those mewed up in this huge enclosure. Men could
not speak to their wives, mothers were too terrified to
address their children, or reassure them with kind
words. The women clung to the men for protection,
and strong men wept to think that it was out of their
power to render them any. Many, utterly terrified, ex-
changed mute adieus by a shaking of the han ds. So awfu 1
was the suspense that the crowd thought neither of life
or death. They simply wondered, like those half stunned,
what next would happen. Under the dreadful pressure
put upon them, their faculties were becoming numbed.
Suddenly the roll of the drums broke the silence.
Some assumed a defiant air, some fell on their knees
as if they would make their peace with heaven while
time was yet allowed them. On the faces of all conster-
nation was more than ever depicted.
For a few seconds, it may be safely said, that no
sound interrupted the beat of the drum, except the
scarcely perceptible murmur of ten thousand lips that
prayed. They knew not what might come next. The
cannon might roar and tear them to pieces, the soldiers
might shoot them as they stood, or knock or pierce
them with the bayonet, they knew not, but they prayed.
It was an hour of supreme suspense and peril. The
most hardened supplicated the throne of Grace.
Those who were bold enough to still keep their eyes
open, in a short time perceived a large number of sailors
enter the enclosure ; on their hats was written in large
letters, 'Patriots of the Aristides.' The ' Aristides '
was the only vessel which had not given itself up to the
English. The captain in command of the sailors made
extraordinary efforts to avoid dishonour, and it had been
declared in the Assembly that they had deserved well of
The Order of the Day. 69
the country. The conduct of the ' Aristides ' had been
much talked about in Toulon, and when the famous and
dreaded name was seen, a panic fear seized possession of
those who had hitherto been hopeful. The words
' Patriots of the " Aristides " ' had a terrible significance
for the Toulonaise. They meant retribution. Each
sailor was accompanied by two soldiers. They walked
slowly, looking carefully around them ; at intervals
they indicated a person by the motion of the hand, and
he was instantly dragged out of the enclosure, and shot
by a firing squad, in attendance for that purpose.
There was no warrant for the arrest, no trial ; a butcher
could not have picked out with more unconcern certain
animals from a herd of bullocks to be led to the slaughter
house. The sailors selected people prominent among the
townspeople, and all so chosen were immediately shot,
as traitors to their country. Some made selections at
random : men were pointed out because they were well
dressed, and looked like aristocrats, an unpardonable
offence just then ; others, because of their noble air or
defiant bearing, for even in that terrible hour there were
those whose bravery supported them ; but one man
wandered restlessly through the throng, evidently seek-
ing some one particular person. He stood on tip-toe,
and looked over the heads of the crowd and there was
an expression of anxious ferocity mingled with anticipated
revenge upon his rough, unintellectual, battered face ;
he was like a wild beast searching for prey. The
representatives of the people could not have selected a
better man to carry out the stern decree, by means of
which they had determined to punish the townspeople.
At times he would dart forward with outstretched hand, as
if he had at last discovered the object of his search, but
he would recoil with a disappointed air, as the look of
gratified vengeance died out of his gleaming eyes. He
had been mistaken. Not yet ; he must search further
70 Under the Terror.
and go wider afield. There were victims enough at
hand, had he desired indiscriminate bloodshed ; but he
was evidently searching for an enemy, and the rage
burning in his face showed that he would not relax his
energy until he was found.
The day crept on ; the firing was not so frequent as it
had been at first, the ' Patriots of the " Aristides " ' were
becoming glutted, and people stared wonderingly, or
drew back in awe when this sailor passed them, gazing
at them with fiendish curiosity : the task of blood was
nearly accomplished. The representatives of the people
were considering the propriety of announcing by a fresh
roll of the drums that justice was appeased, when one
sailor stopped suddenly before a young girl, and point-
ing her out to a soldier, said, ' That is she.'
At those words the girl looked up, as if wondering to
whom they applied ; they were of dire import, and she
knew well enough sounded the knell of some one. This
indifference increased the anger of the sailor, who cried
more loudly than before, ' Take her away ; have I not
said that she is the one ? ' Then she regarded the sailor
with a fixed stare, in which there was no recognition.
She was astonished, that was all, and her accuser was
rendered furious at her apparent indifference. Evi-
dently wishing her to know who he was, he addressed
her in an insolent tone —
' I am Jean Poyer,' he said ; ' you know me now.
Come, prepare ; you are to die.' He eagerly awaited
the effect of his words.
' Jean Poyer,' she replied in a puzzled voice, and she
said the name over to herself, as if trying to recall it ;
but eventually she bowed her head, to indicate that her
memory would not serve her.
' Away with her,' cried the sailor with a tigerish
look, leaning toward her as if he could himself have
been her executioner.
The Order of the Day. 71
' Mind what you are about, perhaps you may be mis-
taken,' said the soldier who accompanied him.
Jean Poyer retired a few steps to carefully survey the
soldier who was audacious enough to call his will in
question, and said, ' I tell you, it is she ! '
'Who?' asked the soldier, grounding his musket, as
if anxious to provoke a colloquy which might save the
' Who ? Why Miss Carmelite de Brissac. Do you
think I don't know her ? '
' That is my name,' said the young lady, mildly.
' You see,' said the sailor, ' she does not deny it ; take
her away, and let her be shot like the rest.'
The soldier knew that it was dangerous to resist the
order of any sailor of the ' Aristides,' but a very strange
sympathy had sprung up in his rugged heart, which
beat warmly beneath his uniform, for the defenceless
creature. He would have taken a man to death without
a scruple. He had killed the enemies of his country on
the battle field, but a woman, a mere girl — 'twas a
different affair altogether.
' What has she done to deserve to be shot ? ' he
' Never mind ; that is my business. I order it. I
Jean Poyer, able seaman, and patriot of the "Aristides." '
The crowd grew denser round the disputants and
their victim ; murmurs of approbation arose at the
soldier's boldness, when another ' Aristides' man came
up, and carelessly inquired of his messmate what was
' Matter enough,' replied Jean Poyer. ' This mili-
tary traitor refuses to obey my commands and conduct
an aristocrat to execution.'
' Ah ! ' observed the second sailor, regarding Miss de
Brissac with an air of admiration ; ' she is pretty, and
the soldier has good taste.'
72 f/wfor Um Terror,
An Im fcpoko, iii; U,ok fin; iiin;rfy of rttinUt^ in,r ol/J//,
miA looking more elowAy td iter ilei'nnfe nUin miA regu-
lar feidnmn. <ireu,f nn wm Uh ruAenem, nim 'li'l nol,
(Um; U> iiroUfol, H, w«* mi nj/e, of i'i<'A;nm t »uA «f«s Wtt#
l>owerU,m j l/«;«i»l«i« f i\to fenr of Aeuiii enenmunmeA iier f
MiA n\ui W»M iiki; one, nfiititnA hy u ttuAAen e,nin,mify.
' I'll m,v<; Ut-,r ii' n\n; iiUm U> \>uf \n;m;\i"m my wtikn
tiinl Uo'tni lU;\iiAAi<;n,n wAournJ ennfimnA in;.
' MoiUeir yon nor nny out; ehe AnAi navn in;r* i;i'ieA
Aetm foyer, fntiotiAy J 'li<;r life in forf';'iU'A t iwMUHtf \,
exert-hiiiy my ri//M,, Imve orAenA iter <// im n\uA,V
' I Aon'f know niioui Umi/ m'n\ fin; m'Aor, mimuriny.
Win utilttitomnf wiih l/i« eye,.
i 'l'in;n I Ai;Ai li-.vie to innkn yon' re\AiiA I'oyer,
vAnw, wmfii wun for fin; momenf A'r/eiU'A from one
oi/ji;(-l \*> Ulioiili't.
If v/m e-iiAenf U/o«<; men, Wionyli ner'/iny in fin; mum
fcbij/, v/wo nof on frieinlly U;imn. 'i'in'ir fwe,», exoie,nni/il
Minimal imU; unit AiA,ruA,\ fin; one win i imA 'inU;if',riA
fiM, »n immhiukniAt', \Ai;imw, in frying in fiir/iirf }//►*,
nii'iiiiintU;, si ml lilt; i;rowi y unf\';i\i»S'inu » ''/»iU;A, liefy/wii
ilntn, ginAiy Ail;-// i,w!f, on ftii wUfa. iioy'm^ fimi, »,
ftivoiirniAi; niver Aon for Sin; yonny IsiAy lnaA h'sn <;ti;,t)>A
}/■/ iin; mereA, ;i'/,iAoni„
If mny in; 'mUseA/my <// A';n/;iAn; Amu i'oyer, wlio
wm a. mmt of sAiotif fori// yearn of aye, tniiier Aioif ;nnl
lii'i'kv;!, j imi limit* r/ori; ii'ty, li'm oii'Ai i/tonA, MiA fin;
nnw,U;n pJntiAiny, ouf '/// iii», urm* AwnAt-A yi'/A tAr/nt>;tt,l
kU-i;iif/i.ii ; ill*, iff/; WM iUti, M\A WMI't'Af Uh VilhiihuA
low ttiA tAmo'A, iiiiiUA, in* \mtr nA, unA \m o/.yrowiou
man 'tin, <A %SnuiA iwocily, inSyiA onf wilit H A;tAi of
U/W <;tt iminy. Jf<; \h>i\ iUo iiinU; fon'A; '■/iinmoii ♦// M/>:)>
|//w tm.nS'A At'//i;io\itiii;)iU, mh\ J'/'JwJ '/mU^m^uoimiy ni,
Win ntlv'',m>ry f r/iio wm U;u y^un iih junior f ittSS, win,
tuiA n'A ttttyU'/aMttft m H\i\ii'Amtn<>A; ; ii'mim'tr wmiAtvM
¥, H, riivwfn \Anm;>yi,:inA \An/uy)i \n>, imA no %ny,iSSwiu»,
\';%\i t>,i/*/ul ii'nitf A wan I't'My wiAtshi fit»i in; v/»%
TJie Order of the Day. 73
muscular, and knew his own power, Poyer seemed to
have enfeebled himself by the excessive use of spirits,
for his cheeks were red and his blood heated. The other
from his pallor looked more temperate. Both wore
coloured kerchief's round t'"°ir necks, tied in a knot,
and both had large gold earrings pendant from
their ears. One was a type of the sailor of Lower
Brittany, low, coarse, brutal ; the other a Provencal,
not yet wholly corrupted. One was middle-aged, the
other young ; one plain, the other good-looking, if not
handsome. The courage of one was cool and confident,
that of the other, boastful and rash. They were born on
the banks of rival rivers, among populations which
habitually disputed with one another for maritime
supremacy, that is to say, for the palm which the coun-
try accorded to the best sailors. They had every reason
in the world to hate one another, and they did hate
Jean Poyer took off his jacket and handed it to a
by-stander ; his kerchief he rolled up and placed in
his pocket, then he tightened his belt, while his antago-
nist made similar preparations.
' You are determined to save this aristocrat, Nicho-
las ? ' he said.
' As for that, I care little enough about her,' replied
the sailor. ' You and I have an old score to settle,
' You shall not be disappointed, I say it on the word
of a man,' interrupted Jean eagerly. ' Just give me
five minutes while I see this traitress to the Republic
shot, and I am with you. Wait here, or appoint
any place of meeting you like ; there's my hand on
It is highly probable that Nicholas would have com-
plied with this request had he not caught Miss Carme-
lite de Brissac's expressive eyes fixed upon him with
74 Under the Terror.
such a supplicating expression that he could not resist
their mute prayer.
' No,' he returned doggedly, clenching his fists, ' now
The Bas-Breton set his teeth together, and, without
further parley, landed himself upon Nicholas with a
violence that threatened to exterminate him, but a
soldier — the one, indeed, who had first befriended Miss
de Brissac in the first instance — drew him on one side,
and Jean was carried by the impetus of his attack into
the middle of the crowd, who hooted and jeered at him.
Quickly recovering himself, he was again before Nicho-
las, and a terrible struggle began between those two men.
Then it was that the soldier made his way to the
young lady's side, and said in a whisper —
' Escape ! Now is your time ! '
She did not remain to be advised twice, and, finding
that the soldier was really in earnest in his determi-
nation to save her, she glided away through the densely
packed crowd; at the same moment the drums sounded
the recall of the patriots of the " Aristides." The car-
nival of slaughter was over.
At this sound, which, infuriated as they were, they
had the sense to recognize and obey, the two sailors
separated, disfigured and hurt. Jean Poyer looked
around him, and, failing to see his victim, a cry like
that of a wild beast in the extremity of hunger escaped
him. Turning to the soldier he said —
' At least I know you. It is through you this has
happened, and you shall pay for her, I swear it ! '
' Never fear,' exclaimed Nicholas. ' We are friends
now, you and I. He has knocked me about like an old
hogshead, and I will not help him to identify and
establish a charge against you. Never fear, I say, he
shall not hurt you, though the coward would have you
made shorter by a head.'
The Order of the Day. 75
' Very well,' ejaculated Poyer, who directed himself
towards that part of the enclosure where the represen-
tatives of the people were assembled, ' we shall see.'
Nicholas followed him more slowly, uttering con-
tinued menaces, for he had come worst off in the
encounter. At the same time the soldier fell back
sadly, and took his place in the ranks, with the un-
pleasant consciousness that, by interfering to save the
life of an aristocrat and a suspect, he had placed his
own in jeopardy. It would have been better for him
had he obeyed the orders of the fierce patriot of the
good ship " Aristides."
In the evening of that sad December day, which had
put half Toulon into mourning, the representatives of
the people, Albitte, Salicetti and Barras, were closeted
together, to consider what ulterior measures should be
taken for the re-organisation of the city, when they
were informed that the patriots of the 'Aristides' de-
manded to see them. As those men had played such an
important part in what may be called the ceremony of
the day, it was decided to admit them at once. Jean
Poyer Avas first introduced to the three members of the
Convention, and he told his tale. A soldier had refused
to seize an aristocrat in obedience to his orders, and
she had escaped. Nicholas appeared in his turn, having
come to defend the soldier as he had promised, and
having heard his story, the representatives of the people
were slightly embarrassed how to decide between two
such distinguished patriots. At length Barras hit upon
a middle course, and addressing himself first to Jean,
said, ' Citizen patriot, your zeal shall be recompensed,
you shall achieve the death of the woman you have
proscribed ; find her out, and she shall be executed on
Then turning to Nicholas he continued —
' As to you, my brave citizen, you shall also be recom-
pensed. The soldier who has dared to disobey Jean
Poyer deserves to be punished with death. We place
Serjeant Berbhis. 77
his life in your hands. If you denounce him he shall
be led to the guillotine.'
After this decision the patriots were shown to the
door Jean discontented enough, because he had no
means of tracing; Miss de Brissac. Nicholas feelino-
that he had so far triumphed, since the soldier's life
was at his disposal. As they came out of the Prefecture,
Jean said —
' I will have her head in spite of you.'
And Nicholas replied —
' I will save the soldier's in spite of you.'
And they separated mutually defiant.
Two days after this scene, a review of the troops in
garrison was held on the Field of Battles. The soldier
who had incurred Jean Poyer's displeasure was in the
ranks, he had not been out of barracks for two days,
fearing that some denunciation might overtake him, for
the sailor had shown himself to be a vindictive person
with a good memory. In fact, Jean had been searching
for the soldier : he came to the conclusion that he might
know something about Miss de Brissac, and be induced
to give up her address ; as he had vainly searched
through the city without finding any trace of her, he
was baffled. Hearing of the review, Jean went to the
Field of Battles and walked up and down to discover the
soldier without success, but the latter saw him, and
guessed for whom he was looking ; he became very
much frightened, thinking that he intended to denounce
him, not knowing that his life was safe in Nicholas's
hands so long as the two shipmates continued enemies.
In a short time the representatives of the people ajjpeared
on the scene with the staff, and those men who had dis-
tinguished themselves in late actions with the enemy
were called forward and rewarded. At length they came
to the battalion to which the soldier belonged. He heard
a name called, Pierre Berbins. It was his own. His
78 Under the Terror.
knees shook, and all the blood deserted his cheeks. He,
who had never felt a particle of fear in battle, exhibited
all the signs of extreme cowardice, for he thought he
was to be punished for his chivalrous behaviour towards
a proscribed aristocrat. Seeing that he did not move,
his sergeant-major exclaimed —
' Here, Pierre Berbins, do you not hear yourself
called ? Step forward, by your right, march. In
obedience to the word of command, the soldier quitted
the rear rank in which he was placed, and advanced
slowly, not at all reassured to see Jean Poyer amongst
the spectators ; arrived before Barras, he bent his head
imagining that sentence of death was about to be passed
upon him. But to his astonishment the representative
said, Pierre Berbins, the French Republic, one and indi-
visible, wishes to recompence those who have served it
it with courage and fidelity ; for your patriotism and
bravery, I name you sergeant of the company to which
Pierre saluted in military fashion, and extending his
arm received the stripes which indicated his rank.
Then he rejoined his companions, not without casting
a furtive glance to the corner in which he had re-
marked the Bas-Breton sailor.
It appeared that Pierre Berbins had well deserved
the promotion which had been accorded him, for he
was received with cheers from all in the battalion ; but
the poor fellow was ill at ease, twenty cannons would
not have made him quail, yet the mere thought of the
guillotine unmanned him. He did not feel himself
safe, he fancied that a great danger menaced him, and
an icy sweat broke out on his brow, when -Jean Poyer
waved his hand in token of recognition.
Soon the attention of his comrades and of the crowd
was attracted by fresh promotions ; nothing, however,
could remove the preoccupation of Sergeant Berbins,
Sergeant Berlins. 79
whose want of enthusiasm struck every one as peculiar,
and his dread increased when the company marched
back to barracks, for he saw Jean Poyer place himself
near the band, as if to follow it home and not lose
sight of Berbins. Jean was at the gate as the men
marched in, and his rough voice exclaimed, ' Good-day,
my sergeant ! when you have done inside, then come
out here, I have two words to say to you.'
When the men were dismissed, the majority went
to put away their arms, but Pierre remained sad and
silent in the middle of the courtyard, resting upon
his musket. The captain, with whom he was a great
favourite, approached him, and slapping him on the
shoulder, said, ' What are you thinking of, eh ? ' The
equality and fraternity prevalent in those days among
the Republicans rendered such a proceeding perfectly
The sergeant started, and recognising his superior
officer, pointed to the barrack gates which stood open,
and permitted the figure of Jean Poyer to be discerned
almost on the threshold.
' Look at that fellow,' he exclaimed, in a voice in
which fear struggled with rage. ' I should like to run
him through with my bayonet ; better do that and stop
his further power for mischief, even if I am shot. The
prospect of being shot is preferable to that of being
guillotined for saving the girl's life.'
' What nonsense are you talking ? ' inquired the
captain. ' You must be cautious how you attack
patriots like the sailors of the "Aristides." They
have much power, and can be dangerous if they like.'
' Ah ! you don't know all, but I will tell you,
viscount, when I have an opportunity-'
' Call me captain,' hastily said the officer ; ' you
know there are no titles now — forget that I was the
Viscount D'Evreux. It would be an offence in that
80 Under the Terror.
sailor's hearing to address me by my title. I cannot
imagine what has happened to you within the last two
days. Have you lost your head ? You have not been
the same man.'
' I have not yet become quite stupid, but I cannot
answer for myself if this goes on much longer.'
' To what do you allude ? ' asked Captain D'Evreux.
' That rascal's persecution,' replied Pierre.
' "Why does he persecute you ? '
< For saving the young lady's life on the Field of
Battles two days ago. I will tell you all about it in a
few words, then you shall judge whether or not the
mere sight of that man is not enough to make me feel
Pierre Berbins proceeded to recount the whole adven-
ture. In the first place he had been told off to accom-
pany Jean Poyer. Secondly, they encountered a young
lady who was demanded by Jean. Thirdly, Nicholas
arrived opportunely, and created a diversion in her
favour which enabled her to escape, though Pierre was
no doubt answerable to the public for disobedience of
orders in the beginning of the affair.
Captain D'Evreux became more and more thoughtful
as the sergeant proceeded with his narrative, and Pierre
fancied it was owing to his sympathy for him, and went
on, ' You see in what a miserable position I am placed,
my life is not worth a day's purchase ; ' a tear trembled
in his eye, and as he dashed it away with the back of
his hand, a rough voice exclaimed, ' I say, citizen ser-
geant, how much longer are you going to keep me
waiting out here. I shall take root and begin to grow
soon ! '
' You hear him, captain ?' said the sergeant.
* Yes, he wishes to speak to you ; hear what he has
' But he wishes to denounce me, to drag me to the
Sergeant Berlins. 81
guillotine for stepping between him and the life of this
unlucky aristocrat ! '
' Well,' said Captain D'Evreux, ' if that is his in-
tention, your refusal to see him will make no dif-
Jean Poyer did not wait any longer for permission to
enter the barrack yard ; he walked straight in, like a
man who has businass with some one, and going up to
the officer, said, in an undertone, ' Is it against orders,
citizen captain, for a soldier to answer when he is
spoken to ? '
At this mode of address D'Evreux's face expressed
disgust and indignation, but controlling himself, he
replied, ' You have served in the navy, citizen sailor,
and you know that military duties must be attended to.'
' That's very likely ; yet he might have cried out,
" Coming presently." '
' Very well ; presently,' said D'Evreux, motioning
him off with impatience.
Jean Poyer was not to be disposed of so easily ; he
shrugged his shoulders and clenched his fist, which was
a sign that he was getting angry.
' Do you hear me ? ' asked Captain D'Evreux.
' I hear you fast enough,' answered Jean.
' In that case be off.'
' Who is to make me go ? ' said Jean defiantly.
' Who ? ' repeated the captain, laying his hand on the
hilt of his sword.
' Yes,' boldly continued Jean ; ' who dare lay a finger
upon a patriot of the u Aristides ? "'
The captain took a step towards the insolent fellow,
but the sergeant, apprehending serious consequences,
threw himself between them, crying —
' Take care what you do, viscount.'
' Ha ! ha ! ' laughed Jean on hearing this, < have we
found a nest of aristocrats ? The guillotine is a £ood
82 Under the Terror.
eater ; one cannot feed her too much, and her favourite
food is the peerage.'
' Away with you/ exclaimed Sergeant Berbins, losing
his temper. ' Quick march ! go, or I shall have to help
you with the point of my bayonet. Now then, half
turn to the right — by your left, march ! '
' Oh, it is like that, is it ? ' answered Jean unmoved.
f You seem to be very courageous since Nicholas begged
your life from the representative Barras.'
' What ? ' gasped Berbins, scarcely able to credit the
' It cuts both ways,' continued Jean Poyer. ' Nicho-
las got your life, and I got Miss Carmelite de Brjssac's.
She shall not escape me the next time I come across
' Miss de Brissac,' cried Captain D'Evreux, with an
air of the most lively interest. * Is all this fuss about
Miss de Brissac ? '
' Do you know her, captain ? ' exclaimed Jean, for-
getting his habitual Republican insolence. ' If you will
only tell me where to find her, or, if you don't like to
betray a friend, just give me a clue to her address, I'll
follow the track like a sleuth hound, and I will be your
devoted servant for life. Excuse the way in which I
speak, I am excited. Tell me where I can find this
woman, and I will go all over the town with your name
on my lips, and proclaim you the greatest patriot in the
Captain D'Evreux had an opportunity of recovering
from his first surprise while Jean was talking with
volubility, and he said to him, with an air of friendly
' Do you want to speak to Berbins to find out that ? '
' Yes, captain. He ought to know where she is,
because he saved her,' Jean Poyer answered.
' But I did not actually save her,' hastily said the
Seryeant Berbins. 83
sergeant. ' I only remonstrated with you against taking
the life of a woman, who certainly did not recognise
you. It was Nicholas who stepped in between you.
As a matter of fact I do not know where she lives.'
< Truly ? '
' Truly ! I swear it, by my love for our common
' Then I must search elsewhere,' said Jean, with a
crestfallen and dejected air. c I made sure she was
some friend of yours, or you would never have inter-
' Stop a moment,' exclaimed the Viscount D'Evreux.
1 Let us put our heads together, perhaps our united
efforts may be successful. I, too, want to discover the
beautiful Carmelite de Brissac'
' You know her Christian name, do you?' Jean Poyer
remarked with a suspicious air.
' Thou seest ! ' replied the captain, affecting the fami-
liar tutoiment, or ' thoning,' then in vogue. ' Thou
seest, citizen, that I know the lady.'
1 And you want to find her ? '
' To save her perhaps ? '
' Thou insultest me, citizen. When it is a question of
" shortening" an aristocrat, you will always find me a
Pierre opened his eyes to their fullest extent, but
receiving a look from his captain, he cried, ' The
captain is right ; may I be shot if I know what in-
fluenced me in interesting myself on behalf of this
aristocrat. I go for the Republic, one and indivisible,
or death. It is my duty. I have taken an oath to that
effect, and I mean to keep it.'
The Viscount D'Evreux shrugged his shoulders, and
exclaimed, i Citizen sailor, we seem to be agreed in this
matter : will you do me the pleasure to ascend to my
84 Under the Terror.
chamber with the sergeant ? You can tell us why you
hunt down Miss de Brissac, and we will combine our
efforts to find her.'
' That's right enough,' said Jean.
' And as nothing makes one's throat so dry as talk-
ing, do you, sergeant, send up to my room half-a-dozen
bottles of wine.'
' And a bottle of brandy,' put in the sailor.
' Do you like brandy ? ' asked the captain.
' Yes, after drinking wine, a glass or two of brandy
makes one sober.'
The sailor and the captain ascended the stairs of the
officer's quarters together ; Pierre soon rejoined them
with the wine and brandy. The fire was made up, and
they all three drew their chairs near the table, on which
stood the uncorked bottles.
THE SAILOR'S STORY.
' As you know Miss de Brissac,' began the sailor, ( I
need not tell you that her family lived in Brest, which
is also my native town. I began my naval career
under the ex-kino;. The Baron de Brissac commanded
my ship. I love the sea, and was a good sailor, but I
did not like the aristocrat De Brissac. The regulations
of the service were very strict, and, knowing the conse-
quences of mutinous conduct, I put up with many
slights, indignities, and injustice, though much against
my will. Soon after our captain's daughter was born,
he became furiously jealous of his wife. She bore him
a son, and he effected a separation. His temper be-
came worse than ever, and we had to suffer for his
domestic unhappiness. Never did a crew put up with
a greater martinet. When his daughter was four years
old he took her on board with her nurse. We set sail
with them. This was contrary to orders, but the
authorities took no notice of it. Every one knew that
the baron thought that his wife had been unfaithful
to him, and, in fact, an aristocrat could do what he liked
in those days. Live the Republic ! '
Jean emptied his glass, filled it, and emptied it
' Ah,' said M. D'Evreux, ' I begin to see the cause
of your hatred to Miss de Brissac'
' My hatred for Miss de Brissac ? ' repeated Jean ;
1 1 don't hate her, it is her father I would exterminate.'
86 Under the Terror.
' But, not being able to revenge yourself upon him,
you determine to condemn the daughter to death ? ' in-
' Exactly. The old rascal is in England, but he will
learn that his old sailor, Jean Poyer, has caused his
favourite child to be executed. He loves her so much
that this will be a severe blow to him. He would
rather die himself than any harm should befall her.'
D'Evreux elevated his eyebrows as if in surprise, and
the Bas-Breton continued —
' I assure you, for this voyage, the captain was like a
wild beast. If one committed the least fault it was
followed by the most terrible punishments, He did not
seem to sleep, he was always on deck, running about
here, and poking his nose there, like a poisoned rat.
We resembled cattle. He took no more heed of us
than if we had been beasts of the field. But one day a
change took place, and this is how it happened. I was
leaning against a gun, kicking my heels, and thinking
that Miss Carmelite's nurse was uncommonly pretty.
She was from Brittany, you know, and they are fine
women all about there. Suddenly I felt a blow on the
back, which sent me staggering some distance. I
turned round with a bound, my fists clenched like bolts
of iron. It was the captain.
' " What have you to say ? " he asked, regarding me
' I was half out of my mind, and, thinking of nothing
so much as what the whole ship's company had to put
up with, replied —
' " If your wife, has made a fool of you, it is no reason
why you should revenge 3-ourself upon a sailor." '
' You said that ? ' cried Viscount D'Evreux, as if all
his gentleman's pride and vanity was interested in the
injury given to another gentleman, for at this moment
it was not the Republican captain who hob-nobbed with
The Sailors Story. 87
the citizen sailor, so much as it was the nobleman who
tolerated the boor. ' You said that, and he did not
either throw vou overboard, or run his sword through
your body ! '
Perhaps this remark recalled Jean to the old rule,
for he answered, ' Directly I had spoken, I expected
either one or the other. He became pale, looking at me
with eyes that glowed like red-hot coals. I began to be
afraid ! but it passed away.
i " You are right, Jean," he said, "you were not in
•' Then he went below and did not come on deck any
more the whole day ; after this he became a different
man, or rather the man he was before, cold and severe,
capricious perhaps, but not an intolerable tyrant. He
never found fault with me, and the first lieutenant was
equally kind ; my shipmates congratulated me on my
pluck and my good fortune, and one night I heard our
chaplain say to the first lieutenant — our chaplain was
the Abbe d'Arvilliers- '
' D'Arvilliers ! ' cried the viscount, interrupting the
recital again. ' John, the present bishop of that name ? '
' The same, he was a relation of Miss de Brissac's.'
' And consequently of Carmelite, I mean of the cap-
tain's daughter ? '
' Precisely ; do you know him also ? ' asked Jean,
bending his gaze critically on the captain.
' Only by name ; he was condemned to death by the
revolutionary tribunal at Nantes, and I believe escaped
with other " emigrants " to Coblentz.'
' That's him,' answered Jean.
' "Well, what did he say to the first officer? '
' '•' It seems to me," he observed, " that the remark of
this sailor has had as great an effect upon the captain
as if a voice had spoken to him out of a cloud. It was
more powerful than all my exhortations ; just a few
88 Under the Terror.
words of truth spoken at random have recalled him to
' You will see that I had not done any harm by
speaking as I did. Every one applauded me. We were
all better treated. Everything went as if on wheels.
I suspected nothing, but that fellow Nicholas, who was
one of my shipmates, always kept on saying, " Look
out for squalls, Jean." '
' The same who fought with you the other day ? '
asked Pierre Berbins.
' That is the identical one ; he was then Captain de
Brissac's cabin boy and high in his master's favour.'
' Did he recognise Miss de Brissac that day on the
Field of Battles ? ' inquired D'Evreux.
' No. I was particularly careful not to mention her
name before him. He left the frigate when he was
fourteen, and she was then a child of four and a-half,
or thereabouts, so that he had very little chance of
knowing her again.'
Captain D'Evreux remarked with pleasure that the
sailor applied himself quite as diligently to the task of
emptying the bottles, as he did to the recital of his
' I tell you,' continued Jean, ' that I was as happy as
a fish in the sea, doing almost as I liked, and making
love to Mariole, the nurse of Miss de Brissac. She
gave me every encouragement, and I dreamt of marry-
ing her if she would have me. I fancied that she was
madly in love with me, as I certainby was with her,
and we made each other little presents. I gave her a
cross of gold which had belonged to my mother, and
she presented me with half a dozen handkerchiefs of
real silk. Well, one morning there was a terrible row
in the ship ; a robbery, they said, had been committed.
The staff assembled, and an inquiry was made. They
went all over the ship ; they searched the chests and
The Sailor's Story. 89
the bunks of the seamen. I was struck dumb with
surprise when I heard what they said after going to
* " The thief is discovered. It is Jean Poyer."
' " "Who called me a thief? " I cried.
' " I," answered the officer in the command ;
" Mariole has declared that half a dozen silk hand-
kerchiefs have been stolen from the captain's cabin, and
here they are in your chest."
' You might have knocked me down with a feather.
I saw it all now, but putting a bold face on the matter
I struggled to believe in Mariole's honesty.
' " It is not true. She could not say that ! " I ex-
' " We shall see ; put him in irons," answered the
' For three days I was kept upon bread and water,
and I had ample time to reflect upon my position. It
seemed incredible that Mariole, my Mariole, whom I
had fondly hoped to make my wife, and with whom I
was madly in love, could have betrayed me ; yet, what
other conclusion could I come to. The time came
when I was brought before the court-martial. Nicholas
laughed at me as I descended the hatchway leading to the
captain's cabin. Then I began to suspect that Captain
de Brissac had laid a trap for me, and the boy knew it
all along. I at once told the court that I believed I
was the victim of the captain's vengeance. I said that
I had alluded to his wife's infidelity, and therefore
he hated me in secret. The president bade me be
silent. Mariole gave her evidence weeping, but she
said that she did not gi i e me the silk handkerchiefs.
My messmates had seen me leave my hammock in the
night to speak to Mariole ; as for Nicholas, the little
scamp said he knew nothing at all. The end of it was
that I was condemned to run the gauntlet and to ten
90 Under the Terror.
years at the galleys. Any other man would have died
under the first punishment, for they did not spare me ;
the rascals hit with all their might. I ran the broad-
side of the whole crew six times, but I had that within
which sustained me. It was the hope of vengeance ; I
swore that I Avould live to be revenged upon Captain
De Brissac. I was certain that he had induced Mariole to
accuse me. Far from forgetting or forgiving the insult
that I had given him, he treasured it up in his heart,
and obtained a punishment for me infinitely more
severe than any he, in his capacity, could inflict.
When they sent me from the ship I was a living sore,
from the hurts they had given me while running the
gauntlet ; nevertheless I served my ten years. You
have never been in a convict prison and cannot imagine
the misery I have undergone. Instead of killing one
aristocrat it is a wonder I did not insist upon slaughter-
ing a hundred. What made my punishment the
more irksome was the knowledge that I did not deserve
it. A man who plans and perpetrates a robbery calcu-
lates the possible jjrofit and the ultimate risk. If he
fails he has not much to grumble at ; with me it was
different. Captain De Brissac, directly after the court-
martial, transferred Nicholas to another ship and sent
his child on shore, giving her into the care of his relative
Miss D'Arvilliers, the sister of our chaplain, who lives
at Orient, where she was brought up and educated. I
am informed that she had been sent here to rejoin her
father, who was in the roadstead of Toulon, and who
was one of the wretches who gave up the fleet to the
English, and he fled when your troops entered the town.'
' Did he go alone ? ' asked Captain D'Evreux.
' I cannot tell. Some say that the bishop has gone
to Coblentz with the other emigrants, as I told you
just now, and others declare that De Brissac and
D'Arvilliers are together.'
The Sailors Story. 91
' Then why did not Miss De Brissac go with her
father ? '
' That,' answered Jean Poj'er, ' is what I cannot tell
vera. All I know for certain is, they were seen to-
gether in Toulon, and the day we took possession of the
town they escaped. A friend of mine assisted them,
and informed me that he was to be paid for doing so.
He heard their conversation, and told me, because he
knew that I owed all my misfortunes to a De Brissac.
They had a firm hope that the daughter was safe, and
would come overland to a port near England and join
them in that country. This course they imagined to
be safer than taking her with him in a frail bark, more
especially as she had influential friends in Toulon. So
you see that though the father has escaped me, I can
still put my hand on the daughter.'
• That seems fair enough,' answered D'Evreux, ' but
how are you to catch her ? You know Toulon well, I
suppose — have you any idea of a place where she is
likely to hide ? '
' If I had any idea I shouldn't want your assistance,'
replied Jean, helping himself again and again, and be-
ginning to stutter in his speech.
■' Of course, yet if you will tell us the quarters you
have searched, we will try other directions.'
• I have been everywhere.'
: Everywhere ? even in the lowest streets of the
town ? '
1 AVhat's the use of looking in low streets for Miss De
Brissac ? ' replied Jean with a drunken laugh ; ' she
wouldn't go into the lowest part of the town, not she.'
' You are right again,' said D'Evreux, with a
peculiar smile ; ' wait till to-morrow, and I will promise
you on the word of a Republican to do all I can to find
That s settled,' answered Jean Poyer, finishing the
92 Under the Terror.
bottle of brandy. l Let it rest there. You are good
patriots. Hurrah for the Republic ! — one, and in-
divisible — that or death ! '
His head soon fell upon his hands, which were
already placed upon the table, and, after muttering a
few incoherent words, he began to snore with a certain
amount of regularity and profundity.
CAPTAIN D'BVEEUX'S SECRET.
When Captain D'Evreux was satisfied that the sailor
had cast anchor, he made a sign to his sergeant, and
they quitted the room together.
' What next ? ' said Berbins, addressing the captain
when they were outside.
' We must save this young lady/ answered D'Evreux.
' 1 could see that was your idea from the first, but in
order to do so, we must know where she is.'
' I can tell you. She is in the sailors' quarter, in
one of the worst streets of the town, where no one
would think of looking for her. The sailor is mistaken
in supposing that the bishop has escaped to Coblentz.
Baron De Brissac and he are together, and will shortly,
I trust, reach England in safety. I have been in con-
stant communication with Miss De Brissac, and did not
imagine that she was in any immediate danger. The
discovery I have just made is fortunate, for I will take
instant steps to protect her.'
' The sailor is terribly incensed against her father,
and will not spare her on any account,' remarked the
' I can see that he has brooded over his revenge.'
' He was unjustly accused and has been wronged.
Ten years at the galleys for an imaginary crime would
sour any man's temper.'
' Yes,' said D'Evreux, thoughtfully. ' The aristo-
94 Under the Terror.
cracy abused their power shamefully, and they are now
reaping the harvest they sowed.'
' You can command me,' continued Pierre, ' only
tell me what you wish me to do. '
' Keep this Jean Poyer in my room until I return.
I am going to see Miss De Brissac, and assure myself
that she is safe and comfortable,' replied the young
He took a few steps towards the staircase and sud-
'I have changed my mind,' he continued ; ' you shall
go to Miss De Brissac for me. I will guard this
He hastily scribbled the address of the house in which
Miss Carmelite was staying on a scrap of paper, which
he handed to Pierre.
i Are you afraid I should chatter ? ' asked the latter,
with a reproachful glance.
' No. I am satisfied that my secret is safe with you,
but it is better for a sergeant to enter such a house,
than an officer in uniform. My presence there in day-
light might excite suspicion ; at all events it would give
rise to remark, and there are spies about.'
' Who am I to ask for ? '
' Louise Feron, at the address I have given you.
Assure Miss De Brissac that all goes well ; her friends
are watching over her. As soon as possible, efforts
will be made to get her into Germany.'
' I will go,' said the sergeant, ' though we are play-
ing with edged tools. I hope no evil will come of it
for either of us, captain.'
The soldier departed, and the captain remained
motionless on the landing for some little time wrapped
in thought. Then he re-entered his room, and found
the sailor snoring in a manner anything but melodious.
Presently he began to arrange some clothes and other
Captain U Evreiuif s Secret. 95
articles in a portmanteau, as if preparing for instant
flight, should it be necessary- In a drawer was a purse
full of gold ; he distributed the pieces in various pockets.
While he was thus engaged Pierre re-entered, and at
once saw his design.
' Pardon me, viscount,' he said, in a rough manner,
' I can see what is in your mind. You intend to fly
with Miss De Brissac, and as forme, if all is discovered,
I may be left for the guillotine.'
' What has put that idea in your head ? ' asked
A^iscount D'Evreux, uneasily.
' Circumstances have forced you to accept a commis-
sion in the Republican army, but your heart is not with
us. You are noble, and your sympathies are with the
aristocrats and the emigrants. I am a peasant and a
true patriot. It is different with you. I will, how-
ever, place no obstacle in your way. You are right to
be watchful, if you would save the unhappy lady in
whom we both take an interest. She is in danger at
this moment, for the other sailor has found her out.
' Which other ? ' asked D'Evreux, in great conster-
At the mention of this name, Jean Poyer started and
moved uneasily. It must have had a strange attraction
for him, as Pierre spoke in a low voice.
' Where is Nicholas ? ' he cried, sitting up.
Looking around him, he only saw the captain and
the sergeant, and leant back in his chair.
' Who spoke of Nicholas ? What has he done now ? '
' He is boasting that he will save the aristocrat,'
answered the sergeant.
' Oh ! he says so, does he ? ' replied Jean. ' I must
find the rascal out and exterminate him ; he should not
96 Under the Terror.
He rose and endeavoured to walk to the door, stag-
gering against the wall as he did so.
' That will not be difficult/ Pierre went on, for I left
him at the first cabarat on the quay ; he was saying that
he had beaten you in fair fight, and added that you should
not kick a dog without his permission.
These words excited Jean to the pitch of desperation ;
he rushed to the door, and Pierre, making a sign to the
captain, assisted him down stairs, across the barrack
yard, and through the gate, and had the satisfaction of
seeing him go away with an unsteady gait, vowing
vengeance against his enemy Nicholas.
When the sergeant returned, D'Evreux said, ' Why
did you enrage him against Nicholas ? '
' In the first place, I thought it advisable to get rid of
him. I have not seen Nicholas, so if they meet it will
be by accident : as for that, if they killed one another,
it would be no great misfortune. Secondly, — '
' Tell me about Miss De Brissac,' interrupted the
' She recognised and thanked me warmly for Avhat I
had clone for her on the Field of Battles,' answered the
sergeant, ' and made many kind enquiries after you. It
is evident with whom she is in love.'
' How was she discovered ?' enquired D'Evreux, turn-
ing away his face, which grew flushed.
'Nicholas was strolling along the street and saw her
at a window to which she had imprudently ventured.
He immediately cried out, ' There is the aristocrat, Jean
Poyer would give something to see her. It would be
look out for the Magdalene. He seemed to make a
note of the address, and as she shrank back from the
window she saw him go on his way chuckling to himself
as^if he had made a great discovery, which pleased him
' How long is this ago ! '
Captain D'Evreuz's Secret. 97
' About a couple of hours. Miss de Brissac is in a
terrible fright, and begged me to ask you to visit her
as soon as possible, for she thinks her life is not safe.'
' AVe must find another lodging for her at once,' said
' I should not think she would be at all sorry to get
out of the horrible neighbourhood in which she is. The
landlady lets her have her room to herself, and she is not
disturbed ; yet the language she must hear in the street
is dreadful for a young lady born and educated as she
' You are right there,' answered the captain, grating
his teeth together harshly.
' Your pardon, viscount,' said Pierre, after a pause ;
'we have no time to lose ! '
' Thank you for recalling me to myself,' replied
D'Evreux. ' The misery this unfortunate girl has had
to put up with distracts me. I need not tell you that
I love her, and I have every reason to believe that she is
as fondly attached to me as I am to her.'
' I believe that,' cried Pierre Berbins.
' I have known her and her family for some years
now. Indeed, we were acquainted in happier times,
when we laughed at Lafayette and Mirabeau, and never
dreampt of the murder of the king, nor the capture
of the Bastille. A more amiable, good, virtuous and
accomplished girl never breathed.'
' It is sad to think that her life should be endangered,
because her father abused his power, and acted tyranni-
cally. We must not underrate the danger she runs, and
I will tell you in what way. At present Jean Poyer and
Nicholas are at enmity, but drunken, dissolute fellows,
such as they are, may make up their difference in the
first cabaret in which they meet ; suppose they shake
hands, suppose they exchange confidences, and Nicho-
las tells the other where to find Miss de Brissac. The
98 Under the Terror.
peril is pressing. Come with me and let us do the best
we can without any further delay.
They quitted the barracks at once and walked quickly
along. The captain stopped before a house where
apartments were to be let. It was nicely situated, and
in a respectable street.
' Go in and take lodgings for Miss de Brissac in her
own name,' exclaimed D'Evreux, giving the sergeant
some money. ' Pay in advance and select rooms at the
back of the house, for a woman left by herself all day
grows tired and will look into the street. Wait here
till I come back, I will go and fetch Carmelite.'
Sergeant Berbins did as he was told. The people of
the house willingly let the room, and received payment
in advance. The sergeant bought a few necessary
articles of grocery, and in half an hour D'Evreux
returned, leading Miss de Brissac thickly veiled and
leaning heavily on bis arm, as if for protection and
support. Berbins waited outside the door until
D'Evreux sought him.
' All is well so far,' said the captain. ' I have to
thank you for your zeal. Co back to barracks, and if
I am inquired for say I shall probably not be in to-
' Then you intend — that is you hope — ? '
1 This very night,' said the captain. ' I cannot leave
her by herself. If I can get a boat and a couple of
men about midnight.'
' I see,' exclaimed Berbins, ' you need not say any-
thing more, captain, I wish you success. Think
sometimes of the sergeant who risked so much for
you. May you both be happy.'
Viscount D'Evreux wrung the honest fellow's hand
and he took his departure for the barracks.
The night was stormy, and rain fell at intervals. At
ten o'clock the next morning, the captain had not made
Captain U Evreux' s Secret. 99
his appearance, and Serjeant Berbins came to the con-
clusion that he had found means to quit Toulon, and
had effected his escape with Miss Carmelite de Brissac,
Half-an-hour later, to his astonishment, he saw the
viscount crossing the yard. He made a sign — Pierre
Berbins was by his side instantly, but D'Evreux did
not speak. He led the way to the officers' quarters,
and when they had gained his room he closed the
' What has happened ? ' asked Pierre, whose curiosity
was stimulated to its highest extent.
' An order was issued yesterday evening, signed by
Barras, that no boat was, on any account, to be suffered
to leave the harbour without a permit.'
' That is bad,' said the sergeant gnawing his thumb.
' I passed the whole night in looking for fishermen
or sailors whom a bribe would induce to venture to
put to sea. I could not find one ; at last I was regarded
with considerable suspicion, and to make the matter
worse, this morning I met Nicholas and Jean Poyer,
' Worse and worse ! ' cried Pierre Berbins.
' They are furious against you, if I may judge from
what they let fall as they walked past. Jean did not
find Nicholas at the cabaret you mentioned, and he
thinks you were making fun of him ; Nicholas has been
again to Miss de Brissac's late lodging, and is much
annoyed to find her gone ; everything looks as black as
possible for us. The aspect of affairs could not be more
Berbins groaned in anguish of spirit, he already saw
three heads in the basket of the guillotine — his own,
D'Evreux's, and Carmelite's.
' I can see nothing for it, but to go at once to Barras,'
100 Under the Terror.
( To him I to the representative of the people ! to
Barras,' cried Berbins in astonishment.
1 Yes ! to the fountain head. I have hit upon a
scheme which will I think be successful ; desperate
diseases require desperate remedies. Those ruffians
must be baulked of their prey. If they find Miss de
Bn'ssac she will be executed, nothing can save her ; we
must act at once, am I not right ? '
' Perfectly, but how to proceed ? '
« I will tell you.'
The captain and his sergeant looked earnestly at one
THE MARRIAGE WITH CARMELITE.
i As Nicholas knows where Miss cle Brissac was con-
cealed,' the Captain D'Evreux went on, 'he has but
to make inquiries at the lodging-house, to find that she
left in my company. That will give a clue which will
probably lead to her discovery. We are all in dan-
' But Barras has given the lady's life to Jean,' said
1 Yes, and yours to Nicholas ! No matter ! I will
represent to him how odious it is for this sailor to
pursue her as he does. In fact, I have my plan, await
my return. I go to Barras.'
Leaving Berbins in amaze, D'Evreux sought an
interview Avith the representative of the people, one of
whose distinguishing; characteristics was a clear and
vigorous memory for even the minutest details.
No sooner did the captain mention the name of Miss
de Brissac, than he recollected the whole affair, and
agreed with D'Evreux that Jean Poyer's behaviour
was to be strongly condemned.
' But what will you have, citizen captain ? ' he con-
tinued. ' He is a good patriot, and she belongs to a
proscribed family. She is an aristocrat — her father is
a traitor to the republic'
' I have come more on behalf of the sergeant Ber-
bins, who is in my company, than for the lady herself,'
102 Under the Terror.
1 What interest can the soldier take in her ? ' asked
' I believe he is in love with her.'
' That may be, yet it is unpardonable for a soldier to
screen an aristocrat. I fear they ought both to be sent
to the guillotine,' said the representative of the people
with a frown.
1 But suppose, citizen,' replied D'Evreux, 'that she
loses the taint of the aristocracy which at present clings
to her and proves herself a good patriot by marrying a
republican soldier ? '
( To that I have no objection,' Barras replied. ' It
is a good way of solving the difficulty and saving the
life of a good soldier. I will consider the matter as
settled. Let Miss de Brissac marry Sergeant Berbins
in four and twenty hours and their lives shall be saved.'
* In spite of the patriots of the " Aristides." '
I You have my word, citizen, it is enough,' said
Barras, waving his hand to intimate that the interview
Captain the Viscount D'Evreux hastened back to the
barracks, and recounted the conversation which had
taken place between himself and the representative of
people to Berbins, who, if he was amazed before, was
now literally astounded.
i Marry me ! ' cried the sergeant ; ' Miss de Brissac
marry a man in my position when she is already en-
gaged to you ? '
' I don't mean seriously that she is to marry you,'
answered D'Evreux, with an angry glance. ' Have
you taken leave of your senses ? '
I I believe I have within the last five minutes,' the
' Listen to me. To marry Miss de Brissac is merely
a subterfuge to save her. I can devise no other means,
can you ? '
TJie Marriage with Carmelite. 103
' No,' said Berbins, with a melancholy shake of the
' Would you consign her to the guillotine — would
you consign the three of us ? If you can suggest any-
thing- better, I will be guided by you.'
Captain D'Evreux looked at him, but he remained
' She will be your wife. I will undertake to gain
her consent to that, though you will see nothing of her
after she leaves the church, and you quit her side at
the door of her lodgings. No one can demand the
head of the citojjeime, Berbins, the wife of the brave
patriot, Pierre Berbins. In a few days I hope to be
able to fly with her to Germany, and you will have no
difficulty in octaining a divorce, which every one will
say is your right.'
• But consider.'
' \Vhat ? ' anxiously asked D'Evreux.
' tShall I not cover myself with a shame, which to
me has no real existence, but to the world at large, who
do not know our arrangement.'
' Ridiculous scruple ! '
' I think not. When I do really marry, my wife will
of course hear all about my first marriage. She will
say his first wife deceived him and eloped with an
officer ; that is what it comes to, and perhaps the
second may follow the example of the first.'
Captain D'Evreux bit his lips and appeared much
' She shall go away to Germany by herself; I will
follow afterwards,' he said, suddenly.
' That is better ; yet '
' Say no more ! ' cried the captain, angrily ; ' we
will take our chance of the guillotine, from which you
have no more chance of escaping than we, though I did
expect that you would oblige me in this instance.'
104 Under the Terror.
' An authorisation is necessary for a soldier to
marry,' said Berbins, still doubtful.
' Barras is to send it to my quarters. There will be
no difficulty about the ceremony. Consent, my dear
Berbins, and you will find us eternally grateful ; you
commenced the good work by saving Miss de Brissac
from Jean Poyer ; end it by saving her a second time.
Jean is as merciless as a tiger, and your life is in the
hands of Nicholas, who will be equally pitiless.'
' I consent,' answered Sergeant Berbins ; ' after all
it is a good action and must bring its reward. Ar-
range everything as you wish it, I will obey you as if
on parade, captain.'
D'Evreux shook his hand heartily.
' You are a fine fellow,' he said, ' come with me.
We must see Miss de Brissac at once, and make the
necessary arrangements for the marriage.'
A short walk brought them to Carmelite's lodgings.
She threw herself into her lover's arms and imprinted
a kiss upon his lips.
' You have come at last,' she said, with a sigh.
' Oh, if you knew how long the time is while I am
alone ! all is so dreary, so blank, so hopeless ! Ah ! '
she started on beholding Berbins, ' you have a stranger
1 Not quite a stranger,' replied the captain, with a
' Oh, no ; it is my deliverer ! I am glad you have
brought him with you. It is everything to have a
friend on whom you can rely in these dreadful times.
Will you not sit down, my friend ? we have no secrets
that you may not hear.'
' He will take care of himself, Carmelite,' said
D'Evreux; ' hear what I have to tell you.'
He related his interview with Barras and the scheme
for her deliverance and ultimate safety, which they had
The Marriage with Carmelite. 105
adopted. When she had heard all, she went to Pierre,
covered with blushes, but radiant with hope, thinking
that her perils were over now.
' "Will you really do this for me ? ' she continued, in
sweet confusion. ' How good of you — how can I ever
thank you ! I shall indeed have one regret, and that is,
I am already engaged, and that my heart cannot go
with my hand. It is seldom one meets with so dis-
interested and generous a man as you have shown your-
self to be.'
Pierre tried to find a suitable answer for the lovely
girl , but failed signally, and could only wipe a tear from
' Happier days are in store for France, I firmly
believe,' exclaimed D'Evreux, ' and then Ave will think
of Berbins. In the meantime, as far as money goes,
' I want no pay,' interrupted the sergeant, finding
his tongue. ' I am sufficiently rewarded by the kind
way in which Miss Carmelite speaks ; and now the
matter being settled, viscount, I will await your further
orders in barracks.'
He saluted and retired, having the delicacy to leave
the lovers together.
Carmelite de Brissac saw the necessity for the plan
to be adopted. She did not hesitate to place herself in
the power of a soldier in a marching regiment, to save
her life. She believed in his honour and his devotion
to his superior officer, and freely allowed D'Evreux to
make any preparations he pleased.
She looked forward to being in a few days on the
road to Spain or Germany, where her lover would join
her, and in a month at the latest she expected to be with
her father and the Bishop D'Arvilliers, and to see such
of her friends as had escaped the fury of the Republi-
cans, and the murderous edge of the guillotine.
106 Under the Terror.
In 1793, in a town like Toulon, which had just been
taken possession of by a section of the national
army, military force, to some extent, superseded
There was nothing very extraordinary in permission
being given by one of the proconsuls of the convention
to a Republican soldier to marry a lady of rank whose
father had fled. It was considered a very proper chas-
tisement, one calculated to reduce her pride, and prove
to her the efficacy of equality.
During the day the marriage was registered at the
office of the municipality, and Miss Carmelite de
Brissac became legally the wife of Pierre Berbins.
The religious ceremony followed early in the morning
of the next day. As Pierre stood by Carmelite's side
in the church, he thought he had never seen so pretty
and engaging a girl as his pretended wife ; he began to
wish, in fact, that she was his in reality. The dawn of
love broke in his heart — a love which he felt was dis-
graceful to him, and which he must check at all hazards.
Still it existed, and he wondered he had not suspected
its existence before.
When he left the church, with her still by his side
for the sake of appearance, he would have given ten
years of his life for one kiss from the lips of the woman
who was by law his wife. She was pale and pre- occu-
pied, but neither tearful or melancholy. She did not
speak as they walked back to the lodgings where
Captain D'Evreux was awaiting her coming. Yet
Berbins knew she was happy in the prospect of the
future and he was satisfied. At the door he made a
respectful bow, and said, though his voice trembled
' I have the honour to wish you good-day, miss.'
' Thank you very, very much,' answered Carmelite,
The Marriage icith Carmelite. 107
She extended her hand, he grasped it, he raised it to
his lips, and the next instant, turning round, he was
walking stiffly back to barracks, as if with his company
And this was how Miss Carmelite de Brissac was
DARKEST HOUR JUST BEFORE DAWN.
Some days elapsed and Carmelite saw nothing of her
husband. She began to grow alarmed. It had been
arranged between them that he should make prepara-
tions immediately for their flight to Coblentz, where
numerous proscribed friends of theirs had taken refuge;
he would have, in adopting this step, to give up his
position in the French army, but his sentiments had
never been with the Republicans. He was a loyalist
and an aristocrat, having served with the army in
order to preserve his life, so that he was at heart glad
of a chance to escape from a state of things of which he
On the evening of the third day she received a visit
from Pierre Berbins.
' You have come from the viscount ! ' she exclaimed,
seizing; his hand.
' Alas ! no, miss,' he answered.
His face was very grave, and her heart sank within
her as she read there evil tidings.
' If anything has happened, I implore you to tell me
at once,' she continued ; ' anything is preferable to this
' It is best that she should know it,' remarked the
sergeant as if speaking to himself.
' Oh, yes. I am brave. See, I am strong and
calm,' said the heroic girl, striving to appear so.
' The Viscount D'Evreux is dead,' exclaimed Ser-
Darkest Hour just before Dawn. 109'
' Dead ! Oh, heaven pity me ! ' cried Carmelite,
sinking back into a chair, pale as a ghost, and trem-
bling violently all over.
Berbins thought she was going to swoon, but she
did not faint, her agony was too acute for that ; she
waited to hear more.
' He was denounced as an aristocrat by Jean Poyer,
the sailor of the " Aristides." Letters from your
father and the able D'Arvilliers were found upon him,
and after a lengthened trial he was condemned and shot
as a traitor to the Republic'
'This is dreadful,' murmured Carmelite. 'Dead?
D'Evreux dead ? What charms has life for me ? '
Seeing that she was overwhelmed with grief, the
sergeant did not speak for some time.
1 Did he send no message to me ? ' she asked.
' His last words were of you,' answered the sergeant.
< Tell me them.'
' He said, " Berbins, give her my undying love, and
add that it is my wish that she should try to become a
Eepublican. The days of monarchy and aristocracy
are gone for ever. She will live safely if she decides
upon being in reality your wife as she is already
legally This is my last wish. You are my friend. I
should like my Carmelite to be my friend's wife." '
' He said that ? ' cried Carmelite.
' And you have the insolence to repeat such a pro-
posal to me. Monsieur, the blood of all the Brissacs
rises up in my veins and forbids such a profanation.
You may lead me to the scaffold. I will go to death as
bravely as did the Viscount D'Evreux, for let me tell
you that I infinitely prefer death to dishonour.'
>She was superior to her grief as she said this, and
stood like Niobe all tears, but yet firm and resolved.
Sergeant Berbins shrank back in affright. Her
110 Under the Terror.
grandeur subdued him, but at the same time excited
his admiration and stimulated his passion, for in reality
he had conceived a sincere and maddening love for the
' Pardon me, ma'm'selle,' he stammered.
' Monsieur, I cannot pardon you,' she replied with
dignity. ' If my beloved friend in his last moments so
far forgot himself and what was owing to me as to en-
trust such a message to you, I am sorry. When the
angel of death is hovering over us, our minds may not
be so strong as at other times, but for you there is no
excuse, no pardon. You come here soberly and ration-
ally to insult me, and at the supreme moment of my
' But if ma'am'selle will consider '
' I have done so, monsieur, and you have unparclon-
ably offended me ; I tell you so plainly, whatever the
consequences of your resentment may be. Go, if you
please — lea> r e me ! '
' Have I no right here ? ' demanded the sergeant,
' Oh, monsieur,' exclaimed Carmelite, with a smile
which, in its satiric force, cut him to the quick, ' if
you presume upon your strength and your legal position
to insult me still further, I have only one thing to sav.'
' And that is— ? '
' I have concealed in the body of my dress a poignard
and with that I am prepared to protect my honour.'
Berbins was completely baffled. He fell back and
knew not what to say.
Seeing her advantage, Carmelite continued, ' What I
should have expected from a man who has, up to this
day, behaved as you have done, is far different from
what has occurred.'
' Will mademoiselle be good enough to explain ? '
said the sergeant.
Darkest Hour just before Dawn. Ill
' You should now offer to conduct me through your
lines, and place before me the means of reaching Ger-
many. To you the task would not be difficult.'
' Your object in going to Germany ? '
i Monsieur is impertinent.'
1 Not at nil. Believe me, more depends upon your
answer than you imagine. I beg mademoiselle to in-
' My life is blighted,' said Carmelite, the tears again
starting to her eyes ; ' I wish to place myself with my
friends, and so communicate with my relations. Then
I shall enter a convent, and end my days in the service
of my Creator. Is monsieur satisfied ? '
' Perfectly. I entreat your forgiveness. You shall
not be mistaken in me. Be pleased to dress yourself,
and I will at once conduct you beyond our lines, and —
and all will be well.'
Sergeant Berbins spoke with difficulty, but Carmelite
was only too glad of the opportunity of escaping. She
took him at his word, not noticing his confusion, or
suspecting that anything was concealed under his
manner. In a short time she was dressed and ready
for the journey. She had money. Berbins was over-
whelmed by her with thanks and protestations of grati-
tude, but he only smiled grimly, and appeared to
resemble a man who is experiencing the pleasure of
doins a good action.
They walked through the town without molestation,
not even taking the trouble to pursue the bye streets.
In a frequented thoroughfare they met Jean Poyer,
who, grating his teeth, said, ' There goes the citizen
soldier with his bride. Ha, ha, Citizen Brissac, I am
revenged at last ! ' and he and his associates laughed
Carmelite clung closer to her preserver for protection
from these wild men, and he endeavoured to reassure
112 Under the Terror.
her, apologising as opportunity presented itself for his
conduct a few minutes before.
At last he got her to a small house at the extremity
of the city, and there she found a chaise, with two
' This is for you, mademoiselle,' exclaimed the ser-
' For me ? '
1 Yes ; ask no questions, please. Go to the driver
and say " Thormidos," he will reply " Brumaire," and
all will be well. Mademoiselle will sometimes think of
' Ever with gratitude,' answered Carmelite, shaking
his hand cordially.
The next instant Sergeant Berbins was gone, and in
the darkness he wiped away a tear from his eye.
Carmelite advanced like one in a dream.
In a timid voice she said ' Thormidos.'
Before she could recover from her astonishment she
found herself clasped in the arms of a man who sprang
irom the carriage. He covered her with kisses — he
called her by her name.
It was the Viscount D'Evreux.
' You darling ! ' she murmured. ' Can this be real? r
' Why not, my sweet one ? ' answered the young
officer's cheerful voice. ' I have been planning this for
days past. Did not Berbins tell you? '
' Ye-es,' she stammered.
Sergeant Berbins had behaved nobly after all. If he
tried to gain her for himself by the invention of a sub-
terfuge it was because the poor fellow loved her, and
she resolved that D'Evreux should never learn from
her the particulars of his attempted treachery.
Time was precious as D'Evreux hurried her into
the chaise, which immediately started.
Carmelite was almost delirious with joy ; her lover,
Darkest Hour just before Dawn. 113
whom she thought dead, overwhelmed her with ca-
resses. After night came the bright morn. It was
worth while to suffer if awakening to the truth could
be so delightful.
They made their escape to Germany, and were after-
wards married at Coblentz. Sergeant Berbins was
handsomely rewarded by Carmelite's friends in happier
times, and in his breast and that of Miss de Brissac's
was locked the secret of his temptation, and the false-
hood to which it gave birth, for which, however, he
had afterwards handsomely atoned.
A MATCH-MAKING MOTHEB.
Frigid, ice-bound winter had just given place to fresh
and balmy spring. The grateful earth was preparing
to bring forth its increase ; the lambs frolicked in the
fields ; the mavis whistled cheerily amid the green
leaves of the monarch oaks ; Nature threw off her
lethargy, and all things animate and inanimate bowed
down before the mighty life-giver, whose rays glad-
dened creation, and made the heart of man rejoice.
Yet was there mourning.
A noble mansion situated in the heart of a midland
county had just yielded up its dead.
Stanforth Harrington, a man of large property, slept
in the family vault, leaving his wife and daughter to
lament his loss.
Colonel Harrington had held a commission in the
rifle brigade, but retired from the service when an
estate became his by the death of his father. This
estate, however, was strictly entailed, and, in default
of heirs male, passed away from him and went into the
hands of a distant relation.
The colonel died young ; but he had always led a
hard life. The want of a son and heir also affected him,
and made him more reckless of his health and fortune
than he otherwise would have been.
It must not, however, be supposed that Colonel Har-
A Match-making Mother 115
rington left his wife and daughter totally unprovided
On the contrary, his life had heen heavily insured in
more than one office, and he had private property of his
own which was absolutely his wife's at his death.
When this melancholy event occurred, Beatrice Har-
rington was a little more than seventeen years of age.
Hers was not the fashionable style of beauty at the
present day, though she was undeniably lovely.
Her eyes were full and lustrous, flashing with a
subtle fire ; her hair dark as a raven's plume ; but her
complexion delicately white, like polished ivory. Her
features were of that much-coveted Grecian type, which
imparts such an air of dignified grace to its possessor ;
her mouth and ears were small, as were her almost
Lilliputian hands and feet. In stature she was below,
rather than above, the average height.
When she chose, a sweet, ravishing smile stole over
her face, giving her commanding beauty a power which
it was difficult to withstand.
When Beatrice fancied herself unobserved, a pensive
loveliness took possession of her, which made her, in the
opinion of some, still more fascinating.
Mrs. Harrington and her daughter were painfully
aware that they would be compelled in a short time to
quit the house which had been a cherished home to them
for many years.
The heir-at-law had, through his solicitor, written
them a peremptory letter, informing them that he should
expect the premises to be vacated within a given time.
Bather glad to quit a house which now contained
nothing for them but gloomy associations, unlightened
by one gleam of hope in the future, they expedited
their departure rather than delayed it, and sought re-
lief in the whirl and bustle of London.
Fearing to incur the inevitable expense of an hotel
116 A Match-making Mother.
until the financial condition of their affairs was accur-
ately ascertained, they took up their abode in modest
lodgings in the neighbourhood of Bayswater.
Here they were speedily visited by Mr. Burt, the
family attorney, a gentleman who had conducted the
legal business of Colonel Harrington for a considerable
period of time.
Mr. Burt was growing old. He had long ago virtually
given up his business to his two sons, though it was
still his pride and delight to wander every day over the
office, and pretend to conduct the various cases that
were entrusted to the management of the firm.
In the present instance he had stolen a march upon
his eldest son, and having gained what may be called
surreptitious information, walked from Lincoln's-inn to
Bayswater to let Mrs. Harrington know what her income
really was to be during her widowhood.
There were two shops in Oxford Street that little Mr.
Burt had a weakness for ; one was a tobacconist's,
whose window had a large sheet of looking-glass in it
which enabled the lawyer to see if his frilled shirt was
unruffled, and if his hat was placed jauntily on one side,
as became a gay old gentleman who had not forgotten
how to look slily at a pretty girl when he passed her in
The other was a hairdresser's shop, the front of which
was adorned with the head and shoulders of a lady in
wax who revolved upon a pedestal, now turning her
rouged cheeks and cherry-tinted lips to the spectator,
anon revealing the immaculate purity of her alabaster
neck and the wondrous parting of her back hair.
Mr, Burt would stand until the policeman on the
beat regarded him suspiciously looking at this mimic
fair one. He ardently wished that kind fate would
treat him as if he were a second Pygmalion, as he would
gladly have passed the remainder of his life in worship-
A MatcJi-makin<r Mother. 117
ping his mute ideal. It was a wonder he did not summon
her to show cause why she wasn't real.
At length he reached Bayswater, and found the ladies
dressed in deep mourning. They were glad to see him,
and treated him as an old friend.
After the usual courtesies had been exchanged, Mrs.
Harrington exclaimed —
' You will, I know, Mr. Burt, excuse my anxiety to
know what provision the colonel has made for us. Of
course we are fully aware that our circumstances have
greatly changed since my poor husband's death.'
' They have,' returned Mr. Burt, pulling up his shirt
frill. ' But though I have to all intents and purposes
retired from the business, yet I made it my task to
obtain the information required by the wife of my old
friend and patron.'
' That is very good of you, I am sure,' said Mrs.
Harrington, scarcely able to conceal her impatience.
' We find that you will have, when all claims upon
the colonel are settled, an annual income of seven
' And that is all ? ' ejaculated Mrs. Harrington.
It was not much.
Accustomed as she had been from her earliest infancy
to luxuries of every description, and to a superfluity
rather than a dearth of money, she felt very acutely
this radical change in her position.
Although not allied by birth to the aristocracy, Mrs.
Harrington belonged to a rich City family ; but shortly
after her marriage one of those periodical crises arrived
which scattered the wealth of her friends, and destroyed
both her own and her husband's expectations in that
After delivering his news, Mr. Burt took a glass of
wine and his leave, walking back the way he came,
standing in mute adoration before his idol, and survey-
118 A Match-making Mother.
ing his insignificant person in the reflecting glass which
had been placed there by the spirited proprietor for a
very different purpose.
Turning to her daughter, Mrs. Harrington said —
' Now that we know what we have to depend upon,
we must look matters in the face.'
' I'm sure I don't want much, mamma,' replied Bea-
' Don't talk nonsense, child ; you want everything.
It is your wants which trouble me.'
' How can that be ? ' asked Beatrice, in undisguised
' Because I can do nothing without you. It is to you
that I look to make a good marriage which will restore
me to the position we have lost through that unlucky
' Oh, mamma ! ' exclaimed Beatrice, much shocked,
' what a time to talk of marriage ! '
And she looked deprecatingly from her black dress to
her mother. *
' I know it,' replied Mrs. Harrington ; ' and I know
that we can do nothing for twelve months. The ways of
society will condemn me to that period of inactivity.
It has occurred to me that the most sensible thing to do
will be to accept the invitation sent us by your maiden
aunt, my sister, and visit her at Torquay for a few
months. While there you can perfect yourself in Ger-
man, Italian, and Spanish, and cultivate those musical
tastes which you possess in so marked a degree.'
' After that ? '
' We must not anticipate, but it is more than probable
that I shall plan a continental tour.
The invitation was accepted. The few months ex-
tended themselves into twelve, and it was exactly a
year before the Harringtons left the hospitable roof of
the maiden aunt.
A Match-making Mother. 119
When Mrs. Harrington found that nothing but a pru-
dent and wealthy match on the part of her daughter
could restore them to anything like their former posi-
tion, she never lost an opportunity of instilling worldly
lessons into her mind ; but she did not find her such an
apt pupil as she could have wis hed.
Beatrice longed, as every true woman does, for a
loving heart which she could call her own, and which
she knew pulsed lovingly for her every minute of the
day and night.
Love, even if it were with poverty as a companion ;
love shaded by misery ; love hand in hand with aliena-
tion from parent, home, friends.
Such was her dream.
When Mrs. Harrington left her sister's house, she
proceeded to London, and expended a large sum of money
in providing her daughter and herself with a wardrobe
of most fashionable and expensive dresses.
' Dress, my child,' she observed, ' is everything. A
woman badly dressed, even if she be beautiful as Venus,
is thrown away. To dazzle, you must dress with per-
fect taste and costly materials ; taste for the men, cost-
liness for the women. It is a clever woman's endeavour
to be envied by the latter, and admired by the former
at all hazards.
Whereat Beatrice opened her eyes.
They determined to proceed to the Continent. Spring
had come again, and the Paris season was at its height
when that of London was just beginning.
Mrs. Harrington armed herself with a few gfood in-
troductions and started for Dover, where she stayed a
few days, observing that there were occasionally some
good people to be met with at Dover.
It will be observed by the attentive reader that this
valuable mother never threw a chance away.
They took up their temporary abode at the Lord
120 A Match-making Mother.
Warden, that being acknowledged the best hotel in the
place, and Mrs. Harrington set herself to find out who
was staying in the house.
' Positively no one, my dear,' she exclaimed, as she
returned from an inspection of the list. ' Not a soul
who is anybody ; a few tradesmen and parvenues, a
sprinkling of commercials, a few army men, and voila
c How tiresome ! ' observed Beatrice, not caring at
all about the matter, but willing to sympathise with her
mother in her evident distress.
' Oh, I must leave to-morrow,' continued Mrs. Har-
rington ; ' I can never afford to waste money in such a
barren spot as this.'
' When you like,' said Beatrice, with a sigh.
' Ah ! you are right to sigh,' cried her mother ; ' but
wait — wait until we cross the Channel, then you shall
see beauty, wealth, rank, and talent, I promise you.'
In the afternoon they walked on the Parade. The
wind was rather high, and Beatrice would have lost her
hat several times, had she not taken the precaution to
confine it with a piece of elastic.
Suddenly her mother pinched her arm severely.
' Oh ! ' ejaculated Beatrice, at a loss to account for
such strange behaviour.
' Let your hat fall,' exclaimed Mrs. Harrington.
' Never mind, do as I tell you,' was the only re-
sponse her mother condescended to give her.
Beatrice did as she was bid, and her hat rolled gaily
along the stones, past a couple of gaily-dressed girls,
until it brushed against the legs of a gentleman, who
made a snatch at it, missed it, and ran after it for some
distance, not desisting until he caught it.
Then he looked round for its owner.
Beatrice at once suggested herself; Beatrice, with
A Mafch-makimr Mother. 121
her lovely hair streaming in the breeze, and looking the
picture of loveliness in distress.
Advancing towards her, he exclaimed —
' Pardon me, but I think I have been fortunate
enough to recover your hat.'
' Yes, thank you,' said Beatrice, lowering her eyes,
The man who stood before her was a tall, gentle-
manly fellow, about five-aud-thirty years of age. His
manner was bold and defiant, his demeanour singularly
polite ; but upon his face sat an expression of dissipa-
tion and sensual indulgence as plainly to be read by a
practised eye as if it had been engraved upon his mas-
' Oh, you are too good,' Mrs. Harrington hastened
to chime in ; ' my poor Beatrice is so careless. She
will not take pains. It is quite a charity to scold her
' I am sure that so charming a young lady cannot
stand in need of scolding,' said the gentleman, smiling.
' May we know to whom we are indebted for such
unexpected kindness ? ' continued Mrs. Harrington, in
her most persuasive and insinuating manner.
' I am Sir Frederick Cazenove,' he answered.
' Thanks very much, Sir Frederick, for your amia-
bility. We stop a week more in Dover ; may we hope
to have the pleasure of a visit ? I think I have heard
my late husband, Colonel Harrington, speak of you ;
and any friend of his will be of course doubly wel-
' I do not know the name ; but I shall esteem it an
honour to call,' answered Sir Frederick.
So saving, he raised his hat and passed on as Mrs.
Harrington gave him a nod of adieu.
' Who is he, mamma ? ' asked Beatrice, when they
had gone a little way.
122 A Match-making Mother.
' Did you not hear him say he was Sir Frederick
Cazenove ? '
' And did papa ever speak of him ? '
' No, you simpleton ; that was a device of mine to
make his acquaintance. I knew he was a man of some
celebrity, because I saw him come from that yacht lying
in the harbour.'
1 When ? '
' My dear, you are not nearly observant enough ; you
are not, indeed. He landed in a small boat ten minutes
When the mother and daughter returned to the
hotel Mrs. Harrington inquired respecting Sir Frede-
She was informed by a garrulous waiter, a native
of Dover, that Sir Frederick resided at the Hermitage,
a few miles inland ; that he had at least fifteen thou-
sand a year ; that he was very fond of yachting, spent
much of his time abroad, and was considered rather
eccentric by the good, sober, honesty-loving people of
' Excellent ! ' remarked Mrs. Harrington, as she re-
capitulated all this to her daughter. ' But, dear me, I
forgot to tell him where we were staying. Still, he
cannot make a mistake. We did not look like a second-
rate hotel, did we, my dear ? '
' I hope not, mamma,' replied Beatrice.
Mrs. Harrington devoutly echoed this wish.
' And so we stop here another week ? ' said Beatrice.
' Of course ; there is a chance.'
< Of what ? '
' Wait, my child,' replied Mrs. Harrington, oracu-
larly ; c see what the future will bring forth. It is
bad to count your chickens before they are hatched,
however good an incubator your hen may be.'
Beatrice sighed again.
A Match making Mother. 123
She wondered whether the peace she longed for
would ever be hers.
Looking out of the window she saw Sir Frederick
Cazenove's 3 r acht, the ' Phryne,' lying at anchor.
% I should like to have a yacht ! ' she exclaimed in-
' That rests entirely with you,' replied her mother,
who had overheard her remark.
Beatrice cast down her eyes in confusion.
She knew to what her mother alluded.
The waiter at the Lord Warden did not exaggerate
in the least when he described Sir Frederick Cazenove
He was, indeed, a notorious libertine.
Those who knew him related stories of which he
was the hero — stories which made the blood run chill
and the flesh creep as the speakers spoke with bated
And yet in appearance he was mild, amiable, and
gentlemanly in the extreme. It was only in his eye
that the devil lurked.
His yacht, a magnificent triumph of the ship-builder's
art, lay in the basin inside the harbour. On board were
the captain, and Bowker, the mate. The two sailors who
completed the complement of the vessel were on shore.
Captain Hicks was entirely a creature of Sir Frede-
rick's. He had been saved from a great danger by the
baronet, and ever since he had attached himself to his
preserver with extraordinary fidelity.
The history of Bowker was somewhat different.
Sir Frederick always preferred to have about him
men who were either bound to him by gratitude or
compelled to serve him through fear.
The latter Avas Bowker's case.
124 A Match-making Mother.
Sir Frederick was spending a few days at his seat
near Dover, the Hermitage. In the middle of the
night he was aroused by a noise as of a man breaking
into the house. Seizing a pistol, he went to the spot
from whence the noise proceeded, and seeing a man in
the act of decamping with a large parcel of valuable
property, shot him in the leg, and brought him to the
ground like a winged pheasant.
Finding that the fellow was harmless, he summoned
his valet, a man of the name of Abel Smith, who was
the depository of many of his master's secrets.
' This man,' he exclaimed, 'came to visit me, Smith,
but as he did not announce himself, he met with an ac-
cident, and I fancy he is badly hurt. Look to him,
will you ? '
Smith knelt down on the carpet, and by the aid of a
flickering candle examined the man's wound.
1 I'll tie it up for to-night, sir, but he will require a
doctor in the morning. The bullet has entered his
thigh and lodged there.'
' It has lodged where it is likely to stay until day-
light,' said Sir Frederick, with a laugh. ' Take his
heels while I take his head, and let us put him out of
They carried him to a bedroom in an unfrequented
part of the house, and there left him groaning terribly.
A villainous countenance had the man. There was
nothing intellectual about him. Strength he had, like
all other brutes, but his ferocity was his chief charac-
He could not understand the clemency of which he
was the object.
' Oh,' thought he, ' they will take me to gaol in the
morning. It was too late to do so when that cursed
shot rolled me over like a dog on the carpet.'
In spite of the pain of his wound he got off to sleep
A Jfufch -making Mother. 125
after a time, and did not wake until the doctor roused
When the bullet Avas extracted the man felt very
faint from loss of blood, and some of his native ferocity
Sir Frederick came to see him. The wounded man's
eves glistened as he made his appearance.
' What's your name ? ' asked Sir Frederick.
' Bowker,' was the sullen reply.
' Listen to me, Bowker,' continued the baronet. ' It
is in my power to hand you over to the police. Were I
to do so you Avould languish in prison for a consider-
able period ; but I will consider your wound a sufficient
punishment on one condition.'
' What's that, master ? ' inquired Bowker, regarding
him earnestly from beneath his shaggy brows.
' You must exchange one sort of servitude for another.
You must be mine, body and soul ; dare to disobey me,
and I hand you over to your doom.'
The man hesitated.
' I — I'd rather take my chance,' he said.
' Think ; the choice rests with you. Good food,
liberal wages, coupled with implicit obedience on the
one hand ; imprisonment, hard labour — '
' I know it all. I've been through it, and rather
than do it again, I'm yours.'
This sealed Bowker's fate.
When his wound was healed he was put on board the
yacht, and he had been Captain Hick's attendant ever
Bowker was a gloomy, discontented, surly wretch.
He had never been married. He had neither friends or
relations, being a foundling and a parish brat. The
only thing that he ever attached himself to, or that ever
attached itself to him, was a huge, savage-looking dog
of the mastiff breed.
126 A Match-making Mother.
Rasper was always at Bowker's side, and the rough,
beetle-browed man loved him with a wild passionate
fondness which was the only indication of his possessing
As for Rasper, he was miserable if he let his master
out of his sight.
On the afternoon of the day upon which Mrs. Har-
rington so cleverly made the acquaintance of Sir Fred-
erick Cazenove, Captain Hicks had left Bowker and his
dog in charge of the c Phyrne.'
Hicks felt, as he phrased it, ' a little spreeish,' so
he went on shore, and indulged in several libations
with doubtful females in various taverns and pot-
When he returned to the yacht, about six o'clock,
he was rather unsteady about his legs, and had an ir-
resistible inclination to sway about from one side to the
It wa3 a little hazy, and Bowker had lighted a fire on
deck in a brazier, which flamed and flared without shed-
ding much light upon surrounding objects.
As the shades of night were falling, Sir Frederick
Cazenove came on board.
' Hicks, Hicks ! ' he shouted down the companion.
' Ay, ay, sir,' responded the captain.
' Oh, you're there. All right. Stop a minute, I'll
come down to you.'
In a few seconds he was in the cabin.
' Will you try a drop of our grog, Sir Frederick ? '
asked Hicks ; ' it's none of your three- water.'
'Not now,' replied Sir Frederick, removing the
cigar from his mouth while he spoke ; ' I came to put
a few questions to you. First of all, how are the stores ?'
' Not perfect, sir, though pretty nearly so.'
' Are we ready to put to sea at a moment's notice ? '
' No, sir.'
A Match-making Mother. 127
' It is as I thought. See to it. In a day or two I
may wish to up anchor, and set sail for the Mediter-
ranean. The ladies' cabin/ added Sir Frederick, 'how
' Just as you left it, sir, when '
' Oh, it has not been used since that occasion, eh?
"Well, you must put it in order. Get the yacht in
proper trim ; when you want money come to me. See
to it all. I rely upon you.'
' Very well, sir, it shall be attended to/ responded
When the baronet had taken his departure, the men
looked at one another.
' The governor's after another petticoat/ exclaimed
' He's wonderful at that sort of game/ said Bowker.
' It's all change with him. He can never stop in one
place a month. Something new is what he spends his
life in hunting after.'
' There's something in the wind, that you may take
your oath, and we'd better have all taut in case of
When he was alone in his berth that night, Bowker
soliloquised — an unusual thing for him —
' Poor thing ! I wonder who she is. She little
guesses what's in store for her. There was the last —
how I pitied her ! never shall I get that sight out of my
eyes. Her screams seem to ring in my ears still. If I
could help myself ; but I am bound hand and foot ; no
slave was ever more securely held in bondage. God
help his next victim? '
Sir Frederick Cazenove did not fail to keep his ap-
pointment with the Harringtons ; the ensuing day did
not elapse without his calling at the Lord Warden and
asking for the ladies with whom he had accidentally
become acquainted on the Parade.
128 A Match-making Mother.
Mrs. Harrington was at home, so was Beatrice. The
latter had been especially desirous of going out after
lunch, but her mother would not allow her.
1 He is sure to call,' she said, ' and I would not have
you miss him for the world.'
Sir Frederick Cazenove, the very pink of fashion,
entered the drawing-room after the waiter, who an-
nounced him in a loud tone of voice, as if he felt it an
honour to pronounce his name.
1 You see, Mrs. Harrington,' said Sir Frederick, with
a bland smile, i that I have lost no time in accepting
' It gives me great pleasure to see you,' she replied.
1 Pray take a seat. '
Sir Frederick sat down between the mother and
daughter, but nearest to the latter.
' Do you stay long in Dover ? ' he asked.
' Really, I scarcely know ; our movements are so un-
certain. We are free as air, and having no encum-
brances can go where we like.'
' That is precisely my case,' remarked the baronet.
' How very agreeable ! And are you fond of travel-
k Adore it ! And you ? '
' It has been my sole ambition all my life. Dear
Beatrice here has such a longing to see Switzerland.'
' " Where Alps on Alps arise," ' quoted the baronet.
' Ah ! you are poetical ? But I need not ask that
question ; every man of taste and refinement must be
' I had a reason in asking you if you were about to
stay long at Dover,' continued Sir Frederick.
' Indeed ! '
' The fact is, I ransacked my memory last night, and
I find that I was intimately acquainted at one time with
Colonel Harrington of the — the — '
A Match-making Mother 129
' 60th Rifles,' suggested the relict of that gallant
' Thank you, yes. The name had escaped my me-
mory at the time you spoke. Now, I should esteem it
a favour if you would permit me to extend what little
hospitality is in my power to the widow and daughter
of so old a friend and worthy a gentleman.'
Mrs. Harrington raised the corner of her lace-edged
handkerchief to her eye.
The kind and generous way in which Sir Frederick
spoke had presumably affected her to tears.
' I trust I have not aroused any painful emotions,'
Sir Frederick hastened to say.
' N — no,' replied Mrs. Harrington, with a half sob.
' But I am so very susceptible — my loss is so recent —
he was so dear to me ! '
There was a pause.
Mrs. Harrington gradually recovered herself.
' May I flatter myself that my invitation will be ac-
cepted ? ' continued the baronet.
' For a few days ; I cannot promise to stay longer.
Dear Beatrice is dying to reach Paris,' replied Mrs.
' I will send my carriage for you to-morrow to bring
you to the Hermitage ; that is arranged.'
' You are very kind,' returned Mrs. Harrington.
After some conversation on indifferent matters Sir
Frederick took his leave.
Beatrice sat still and did not speak a word.
' How dull you are, Beaty ! ' said her mother ; ' I
consider it very unkind of you. Here do I take the
greatest trouble for your sake, and the whole time Sir
Frederick was here you would not open your mouth.'
; For my sake?'
' Certainly. Is it not the wish nearest my heart to
see you comfortably settled in life ? '
130 A Match-making Mother,
' There seemed something indecent to
in the way you fished for an invitation,' replied Beatrice.
' If, as you say, you never heard the colonel speak of
Sir Frederick, his declaration of intimacy must have
been substantially false.'
' Of course. I knew that very well all the time.
He has taken a fancy to you, and wishes to have us at
his place, so that he can make love to you.'
' Any one would think I was an article of merchan-
dise to be bought and sold,' said Beatrice, disdainfully.
' My dear child/ replied her mother gravely, ' peo-
ple in our position cannot afford to throw chances away.
Beatrice was silent. It was useless to attempt to
reason with her worldly mother.
Mrs. Harrington had her way, and when the carriage
came the next day to convey them to the Hermitage
they were in readiness.
The Hermitage was a large straggling house, situated
in the midst of a handsome park, thickly timbered.
The walls were for the most part covered with ivy.
Rooks, wood-pigeons, starlings, and sparrows abounded.
It was the beau ideal of an old romantic dwelling.
Beatrice shuddered as she beheld it, but her mother
was enraptured with it.
' Oh, what a dear old place ! ' she exclaimed. ' I
think I could give the world for such a house.'
' If it isn't haunted I am much mistaken,' rejoined
Beatrice. ' Those rooms up there, under the tower,
have an air which speaks volumes, and tells me they are
peopled with ghosts.'
' Don't be so absurd ! ' said her mother, angrily. ' A
girl educated as you have been should know better than
to indulge such silly fancies.'
'1 shall not be easy an hour while I am here,' con-
tinued Beatrice. ' Look at that wing, mamma. Do
A Match-makin<>- Mother 131
you notice that the blinds are all pulled down, just as if
there was some one dead there ? '
1 It is disused, perhaps.'
The carriage now drove up. Sir Frederick stood on
the step, waiting to receive them, and do the honours of
his establishment in person.
He conducted them into the dining-room, which was
handsomely furnished, though the furniture was all
antique. Family and other portraits hung from the
walls. A cold collation was served, to which he invited
them to do justice.
They ate the wing of a chicken and drank a glass of
wine apiece at his request, and were shown to their
apartments by the housekeeper, an elderly female of
singularly forbidding aspect.
The rooms set apart for the mother and daughter
looked upon the lawn, and were in the centre of the
house. Although they were replete with every comfort
they also partook of the ghostly appearance which was
everywhere so noticeable in this ancient mansion.
The heavy Arabian bedsteads shrouded in drapery,
long, rich, and pall-like ; the thick carpets into which
the foot sank at every turn ; the deep embrasures of
the windows ; the curious diamond-shaped panes of
glass set in lead which those windows contained ; the
dull napping of ivy leaves and branches against the
panes ; the sullen howl of the wind as it swept under
the gables and tore round the chimney-tops ; the mas-
sive oaken wardrobes and chairs, black with age ; the
huge fire-places and high mantel-pieces — combined
with the tapestried walls to raise a sensation of awe in
the mind of the beholder.
Beatrice shuddered a second time.
'What ails you, child?' asked her mother, when
Mrs. Greaves, the housekeeper, had retired and left
them to themselves.
132 A Match-making Mother.
' When I entered these rooms I felt a presentiment
of coming evil. Oh, mamma ! I may be very weak
and nervous — I am willing to admit that I am a silly
little fool — but I cannot divest my mind of the belief
that there is danger lurking in the air.'
' Danger of what description ? ' asked Mrs. Harring-
ton, regarding her with a puzzled look.
1 Nay, that is more than I can tell.'
' Tut ! ' said Mrs. Harrington, unable to conceal an
expression of great annoyance ; ' you have been reading
Beatrice sat down in an arm-chair, and burst into
Her mother did not attempt to comfort her, thinking
it would be better to let her weep.
When Mrs. Harrington had changed her dress,
Beatrice was still crying.
' If you are so foolish as to make your eyes red and
swollen,' she exclaimed, i I must leave you here until
you recover yourself.'
' Oh, do not leave me ! ' cried Beatrice.
1 Yes, it is fitting that you should be punished for
your stupidity. Moreover, you will then have an op-
portunity of proving how ill-founded your suspicions
In spite of her daughter's protestations, Mrs. Har-
rington left her to herself.
Beatrice, unable to remain alone, quickly changed
her dress, dried her tears, and prepared to follow her
But in her eagerness she mistook the way — a very
easy achievement, by the way, in such an old-fashioned
house — and instead of going towards the grand stair-
case proceeded along a corridor which led directly to
the west wing.
This part of the house was that which Beatrice had
A Match -mak'wir Mother. 133
remarked on account of the blinds bein£f drawn down
externally, giving it the appearance of being unin-
habited. That this was not the case, however, oil-lamps
burning at intervals in the passage clearly proved.
When Beatrice came to the conviction that she had
wandered in a wrong direction, she turned to retrace
Suddenly in the imperfect light she saw a door open,
and beheld a pair of eyes brightly shining. Almost im-
mediately the door was closed, and Beatrice went on
with the impression that she had been favoured with a
view of a woman's face.
' There is some mystery about this house,' she mur-
mured. ' Oh, that I were out of it ! '
By dint of perseverance she regained the grand stair-
case, and descended to the drawing-room, where Sir
Frederick and her mother were engaged in friendly
A few days passed very agreeably, in spite of Bea-
trice's gloomy anticipations. They rode, drove, sketched,
A ball was advertised to take place in Dover, in aid
of some local charity, and Mrs. Harrington expressed a
wish to go. It was accordingly arranged, and Sir
Frederick purchased some tickets.
' I want him to see you in a low dress, Beaty,' said
her mother. ' Grirls are always so attractive in low
As Beatrice was alighting from her carriage, a man
standing on the pavement slipped a note into her hand.
She took it involuntarily, and the next minute was
in the building in which the ball was held.
The man was Bowker.
"While taking off her shawl, and drinking a cup of
coffee, she glanced with a woman's curiosity at the
134 A Match-making Mother,
It ran as follows —
' Be particular which way the carriage drives to-
night. If it goes to the westward , in the direction of
Shakespeare's Cliff, there is danger ; refuse to proceed,
and escape at all hazards. A Friend.'
' Some one is joking with me,' she said to herself.
' It is a trick ; but I will not be frightened.'
Certainly the Hermitage was on the eastern side ;
and if the carriage did bear to the west, it would be a
While listening to the strains of the music and whirl-
ing in the giddy waltz, she forgot all about the mys-
terious warning, and laughed as heartily as the rest of
Sir Frederick Cazenove surpassed himself that even-
ing to be agreeable to the ladies.
It was difficult to think anything bad of so amiable a
To a girl who has seen little of society balls are
always the oases Avhich render the Sahara of domestic
life at all bearable.
Pretty, agile, untiring, conscious of admiration de-
servedly bestowed, she knows not fatigue, and dances,
smiles, and chatters incessantly.
It was so with Beatrice.
She was in the humour to believe anything.
Sir Frederick Cazenove took her down to supper,
purposely losing sight of Mrs. Harrington. A little
sparkling wine, judiciously applied, made Beatrice still
more deliciously careless and happy.
' Shall we join the dancers again ? ' asked Beatrice,
panting for the ball-room, and seeing that some couples
were already departing for the Terpsichorean arena.
* As you please,' he rejoined ; ' I should, however,
greatly prefer a lounge in the conservatory, and a short
uninterrupted conversation with you.'
A Match -making Mother. 135
' With me ! ' exclaimed Beatrice, elevating her eye-
brows in surprise.
They rose from the table and walked leisurely from
the room. As they quitted it they met Mrs. Harring-
ton leaning on the arm of an elderly gentleman in
uniform extensively decors. She smiled, and bowed
graciously to Sir Frederick Cazenove and her daughter,
and was evidently much pleased.
The baronet led his young and lovely partner into a
long room, which had been fitted up as a conservatory,
and was filled with numerous shrubs and flowers,
arranged in such a way as to make many narrow wind-
ing paths, with seats placed at intervals, after the
manner of alcoves.
' Where are you taking me ? ' asked Beatrice, shiver-
ing, she knew not why.
Casting a glance of undisguised admiration upon her
lovely shoulders, her bosom white as driven snow, her
bare arms, and her pretty face, he answered, while his
voice trembled with a passion he either could not or did
not care to conceal —
' My darling — for you must allow me to call you so
— I have brought you here to tell you I love you.
Nay, start not. Since the first moment I beheld you,
my heart has been irrevocably yours. I felt that you
were my fate, and I could not resist you. I knew that
you were my goddess, and I could not help but worship
' Oh, Sir Frederick ! ' cried Beatrice, who had
listened to this appeal with breathless astonishment.
; This is so sudden — I am unprepared. For heaven's
sake take me back to mamma ! '
' Not until I have an assurance from your lips that
you will return my affection.'
Beatrice made no reply.
Her bosom heaved and fell, her face, neck, and
136 A Match-making Mother
shoulders became crimson, and then, as the not tide
receded, she became deadly pale.
Employing just as much gentle violence as was
necessary, Sir Frederick Cazenove pressed her back
into a seat, and placing himself by her side, insinuated
his arm round her waist, drawing her close to his
' Dearest/ he cried, in a clear, bell-like voice, which
was yet low and sweet, and which thrilled through her,
vibrating pleasantly upon the most sensitive chords of
her heart, ' dearest, you must — you shall listen to me.
I can contain myself no longer. '
Involuntarily she nestled closer to him, and allowed
her head to sink upon his shoulder, while she looked
up dreamily into his handsome, aristocratic face, every
feature of which was beaming with love for her.
' If you love me with the same wild, passionate, all-
sacrificing love I feel for you,' he continued, ' and I
can read your character and thoughts sufficiently well
to know that I am far from indifferent to you.'
Beatrice cast down her eyes in modest confusion.
' You are not justified in saying that,' she exclaimed,
' as I have as yet admitted nothing.'
' But it is true, Beatrice, my darling, my dearest,
my hope ! ' he cried, eagerly. ' You cannot deny it.
Come, then, let us fly this very night, and speed to
climes where our existence can be one dream of love.
My yacht '
Beatrice disengaged herself with a jerk from his
Her eyes flashed with an indignant fire ; her lips
were parted, and her bosom, which had before heaved
with a sensuous passion, now panted with rising rage.
His meaning was too plain to be mistaken.
' What ! ' she exclaimed, extending her right hand
as if to denounce him, ' you dare to talk of love, and in
A Match-making Mother. 137
the same breath have the hardihood to make me a
proposition which involves my dishonour ! '
' You mistake my meaning,' he answered^ remaining
perfectly calm beneath her fierce denunciation.
His unruffled demeanour rather inclined her to be-
lieve that she might have misunderstood him, and she
listened in silence for his explanation.
' We can sail in my yacht for France, where
She would listen no more.
' No, Sir Frederick,' she exclaimed, hurriedly, ' I
can divine your meaning too well. The proposal you
make to me is dishonourable in the extreme. I was
weak and foolish just now. I am strong and well
again, thank heaven, and entreat you to conduct me to
' In what have I offended you ? ' he asked, rather
puzzled what course to pursue.
' You professed to love me — what answer I might
have been induced a little while ago to give you, in the
infatuation of the moment, I don't know ; but what
can I think of a man who asks me to elope with him
when there could not possibly be any impediment to a
marriage ? '
' I am romantic,' he answered, with a deep sigh ;
' let that be my excuse for proposing anything of a
clandestine nature. I have no objection whatever to
demand your hand in a formal manner of your mother ;
will that satisfy you ? '
' Perfectly,' replied Beatrice, after a moment's con-
She was naturally of a forgiving disposition, and felt
only too pleased to receive his apology, for, with his
gentle manners and handsome face, he had made an
impression on her heart which she found it difficult to
138 A Match-making Mother.
' We are good friends again ? ' lie queried.
' I hope so.'
Offering her his arm he led her, suffused with blushes
and smiles, to the ball-room. Guiding her to a seat
he exclaimed —
' I will go and seek Mrs. Harrington if you will
kindly remain here.'
' If any one should tempt me to dance ? '
' You must turn a deaf ear, and refuse to be
' Oh, what tyrants you men are when you think you
have acquired a little power over us ! ' exclaimed
He left her alone, and pretended to look for Mrs.
Harrington, who, however, was snugly ensconced in
the supper-room, devoting her attention partly to roast
chicken and ham, and partly to the rather stale, and
not altogether merited compliments paid her by her
cavalier, who was solely actuated by a hope that,
through ingratiating himself with the mother, he
might stand a chance of an introduction to her lovely
When Sir Frederick Oazenove returned he said to
' Your mother is tired to death ; she declares she
has been looking everywhere for you, and has just
allowed me to place her in the carriage, where she now
awaits your coming.'
1 Indeed ! ' said Beatrice.
She did not suspect him of any sinister design, and
jumped up with alacrity, adding —
' Poor dear mamma, I know she soon gets tired, and,
to tell the truth, I feel a little knocked up.'
They had by this time reached the staircase, down
which Sir Frederick hurried her, fearful lest Mrs.
Harrington should meet them on the stairs, when of
A Match-miikinu; Mother. 139
necessity all his plans would be discovered and frus-
Fortunately for himself, but unhappily for Beatrice,
thev did not encounter Mrs. Harrington. Beatrice
went into the room where she had left her shawl, and
throwing it over her shoulders accompanied Sir Frede-
rick to the door, where his carriage was waiting, as she
thought, to convey them to the Hermitage.
A black servant of Sir Frederick's, named Mustapha,
wearing a turban, the short jacket and loose trousers
which characterise the inhabitants of the East — a fellow
half- Turk, half-Greek — opened the door of the car-
It was rather dark outside, and though the lamps
shed a sickly glare in the road, Beatrice could see no-
thing distinctly, owing to the sudden change from a
blaze of light to comparative darkness.
She had seen Mustapha before at the Hermitage, so
that his appearance did not startle or surprise her in
As soon as she was in the carriage Sir Frederick
Cazenove sprang lightly after her, Mustapha jumped
on the box beside the coachman, and the vehicle drove
off at a quick pace.
For a moment Beatrice did not remark that her
mother was absent from the carriage.
She had scarcely pulled up her dress and settled her-
self comfortably in a corner, when the fact burst upon
1 Where — where — where's mamma ? ' she stammered.
i Pardon the deception I have had recourse to,' ex-
claimed Sir Frederick. ' I '
' Oh, let us out ! ' cried Beatrice, now fearfully
alarmed. ' I will get out ! Such treatment is mon-
strous ! '
She endeavoured to open the window, but twining
140 A Match-making Mother.
his strong arm around her he effectually prevented her
from doing anything of the sort.
She raised her voice and began to scream, thinking
that she should thereby call the attention of some be-
lated passer-by to her desperate position, and obtain
Sir Frederick drew her to him and stopped her cries
with kisses, which she did her best to ward off.
1 It is useless to resist,' he exclaimed, when she be-
came a little calm. ' No harm will happen to you ;
why be so alarmed. I am not an ogre.'
' 0, what will become of me ? ' cried Beatrice clasp-
ing her hands.
Her heart sank within her. She was completely in
the power of a man whom she knew to be a libertine
from what he had said to her that evening. By a
stratagem he had taken her away from her only pro-
When the carriage reached the end of the street she
found to her dismay that it turned to the west, and
was going in a direction totally opposite to that of the
' What have I done that I should be treated thus ? '
she cried in a moaning voice.
1 My dear child, do not give way to such excessive
grief,' exclaimed Sir Frederick, compassionating her
' I cannot help it,' she sobbed.
Her fortitude gave way, and she had recourse to a
woman's inevitable vent for an overburdened mind.
' I assure you that you have nothing to fear/ he
said in a soothing voice. ' I love you very dearly, it is
true, but that is an additional reason why I should treat
you with kindness and consideration. " The Phryne
is moored under the cliffs. I shall take you on board,
and we will sail to another land, where — '
A Match-making Mother. 141
' Xo, no, a thousand times no ! ' cried Beatrice, whom
these words worked into a frenzy of excitement.
' Death is preferable to dishonour.'
' I intend you no dishonour,' he rejoined. ' We can
procure a priest without any difficulty, who will make
us man and wife.'
' I distrust you,' she replied. ' Why, if your inten-
tions are fair and honourable, should you have recourse
to this violence, as I told you in the ball-room my
mother would have had no objection to the union ? '
' I detest anything formal.'
' That is an excuse. I am confident that you intend
to ruin me ; but I warn you that death is preferable to
dishonour. I will perish by my own hand, and if I can
find no dagger, no knife wherewith to kill myself, I
will plunge into the sea.'
' This passionate rage, darling, very much becomes
you,' said Sir Frederick tauntingly ; ' you are very lovely.
Xo knife would be so cruel as to pierce that fair skin,
no sea so wicked as to drown you.'
The carriage drew up with a sudden jerk.
They had reached that particular part of the cliff
where, by crossing the railway, and taking a winding
path, they would reach the beach.
The town of Dover lay in repose on their left ; be-
hind them was the dark country, stretching for many
miles inland ; to the right, frowning majestically, was
Shakespeare's Cliff; before them extended the placid
ocean, unruffled by the slightest breeze.
The ripple of the wavelets as they broke upon the
pebbly beach was distinctly audible.
A short distance from the shore could be seen the
' Phryne.' A light was displayed at her bows, and a lan-
tern, which moved with every undulation of the sea,
indicated that a boat was waiting for the arrival of the
profligate baronet and his beautiful victim.
142 A Match-making Mother.
Sir Frederick Cazenove sprang out of the carriage,
and extended his hand to assist Beatrice to alight, taking
it for granted that she would accompany him without
She descended from the carriage, but no sooner had
her feet touched the ground, than she darted forward
with the rapidity of lightning, and, eluding his grasp,
disappeared in the darkness.
' Lights ! ' shouted Sir Frederick, foaming with rage.
' Lights here ! The girl has escaped me. Mustapha,
you black scoundrel ! after her, sir ! '
The black no sooner heard this command than he
hastened in pursuit of Beatrice, who, as far as he could
see in the hurry and confusion of the moment, had
taken the direction of the cliff, and was ascending its
precipitous side with the agility of a chamois.
The men in the boat, who were no other than Cap-
tain Hicks and Bowker, hastened over the beach and
across the railway to the spot at which the carriage had
' What's the matter, Sir Frederick ? ' inquired Hicks.
On Bowker's face there was an expression of pleasure.
He could guess what had happened. The driver, an
old hand, and accustomed to these adventures of his
master, sat still and stolid on his box, troubling himself
about nothing but his horses.
' Matter, my good fellow ! ' replied Sir Frederick ;
' matter enough. The cursed girl has got away after
all my trouble.'
' In what direction ? '
' Up the cliff ; but it's so infernally dark that she
may have doubled, and be making for the town. Do
you, Hicks, go up the cliff and search for her ; you,
Bowker, had best go to the town and guard the road.
She must be caught, or I shall have to make myself
scarce in Dover for a time.'
I Match-making Mother 143
The two men started off, each in a different direction,
to obey their master's behest.
In the meantime Beatrice had pursued a path which
led her up the cliff. She toiled laboriously to gain the
summit, thinking that she was gaining on Sir Frederick
and his myrmidons, and consoling herself with the re-
flection that she could throw herself over the cliffy and
be dashed to pieces on the rocks below, if she were
It was a very dark night ; scarcely a star was to be
seen. Now and then a phosphorescent glow broke out
on the sea as a larger wave than usual disturbed its
surface ; but it was with the utmost difficulty, and,
indeed, almost by a miracle, that she kept the path.
It was an awful reflection that one false step would
precipitate her into eternity ; but she had no time for
It was fortunate that it was so ; had she enjoyed time
and leisure for meditation, her brain would have tem-
porarily given way, and she would have sank insensible
on the ground, an easy prey to her would-be seducer.
At length she halted, thoroughly exhausted. Lean-
ing forward, and straining her faculties to the utmost,
The heavy breathing of a man labouring up the steep
hill fell upon her startled ears.
' Oh God ! ' she cried ; ' they are upon me ! '
Stepping forward wearily, she prepared to continue
She had not proceeded more than a dozen paces, how-
ever, before she felt the earth giving way beneath her
Treading inadvertently, in the darkness of the night,
upon a rotten part of the cliff, it had given way with
A desi >airino- shriek broke from her as she felt herself
144 A Match-making- Mother.
falling— falling like a rebellious angel hurled through
space down to the bottomless pit by the divine wrath.
Her senses were leaving her.
Suddenly she struck with considerable violence against
some hard substance.
Her fall was arrested.
Providentially, after falling a few feet, she had struck
upon a projecting ledge of rock.
This accident, dreadful though it appeared, had saved
In another minute the black Mustapha, following her
with the unerring instinct of a bloodhound, would have
seized and dragged her with a wild glee to the vessel,
hoping thereby to gain his master's good opinion, and
receive a handsome reward.
She was not much hurt.
Fearing to move, lest she might topple over and perish
on the rocks below, she remained perfectly still, anxiously
awaiting the appearance of morning.
Mustapha, finding that his exertions were lamentably
wasted, and that he was merely jeopardising his valuable
neck in wandering up and down the cliff, returned to
his master, whose rage, though still intense, had some-
' Well ! ' he ejaculated as the black appeared.
' I can see nothing of the lady, sir,' replied the black.
' That is strange,' said Sir Frederick Cazenove; 'can
she have tumbled into the sea ? Whatever her fate, I
shall go on board the yacht and cruise in the channel
until the evening, when two lights displayed as usual —
green over blue — will bring me back.*
' Shall I remain on the watch ? ' inquired Mustapha.
' Yes,' said Sir Frederick ; c it may be productive of
some good. Keep guard on the cliff unitl the morning.'
' If I should meet with the lady '
' Conduct her at once and at all hazards to the Her-
A Match-makini>- Mother. 145
mitage. Sec to this, and you shall have no cause to
regret your zeal.'
The black bowed low.
Captain Hicks sounded a whistle, which had the
effect of brin£ino; Bowker to the scene of action.
' Follow me, Sir Frederick,' exclaimed Captain
Hicks. ' The path to the beach is a little awkward to
those unaccustomed to its tortuous windings.'
' Stand aside, man,' replied Sir Frederick, contemp-
tuously ; ' if I don't know it as well as you, may I never
plan another abduction.'
He was fond of speaking roughly and rudely to his
dependants, and occasionally resorted to blows to further
impress his meaning upon them.
The quietude which had up to the present time char-
acterised the atmosjDhere no longer existed. For some
hours dark banks of clouds had been drifting up from
the southward, bringing a cold wind with them, a few
drops of rain plashed upon the ground, and the crescent
moon, rendered visible occasionally as the patches of
ragged clouds swept past it, sufficed to show that the
sea was heaving restlessly.
' A dirty night,' said the skipper, shaking his head
' That may or may not be,' observed Sir Frederick.
' If the wind rises, there may be a little swell on the
shore, but we shall be safe enough in mid-channel.'
' I would rather run over to Calais, if you have no
objection, Sir Frederick,' said Captain Hicks.
' You may go to the devil for what I care,' replied
his gracious master ; ^that is, provided you let me
alone. When I'm on board I shall turn in, and I won't
be disturbed on any account — not even if the sky falls
or it rains little fishes.'
' It is to be hoped you will wake in a better temper,'
muttered Captain Hicks, adding in a low tone to Bow-
146 A Match-making Mother.
ker — ' I don't half like the look of the weather, and
we'll cut right across and lie snug in Calais Harbour.'
' Ay, ay,' said Bowker ; ' I'm your man. It's some
time since I said parley-voo to any one of your mos-
' There was a little bit of a French girl, wasn't there ?
one of those '
' Stow that, cappen ! ' cried Bowker getting red in
face, and walking on ahead to conceal his confusion.
The party embarked on board the yacht, which was
soon standing away from the shore in the track of the
mail-steamer which had a short time before preceded
them across the Channel.
Mustapha had a long and solitary vigil.
Captain Hick's predictions about the weather were
not realised : the wind shifted, the rain held up, and the
stars came out.
The black was a faithful servant. Sir Frederick
Cazcnovc did not rule him through fear. His obedi-
ence and unscrupulous fidelity to his master were
prompted by love. Sir Frederick had saved Mustapha' s
life, under peculiar circumstances, during one of his
journeys in the East, and ever since that day the life he
saved had been devoted to his service.
On the top of the cliff was an old hut. It had pro-
bably served as a protection to the coast-guardsmen,
but was in a terribly dilapidated condition. Its wretched
timbers leant one against the other, and it was guiltless
of a roof. It served, however, as a poor protection
against the violence of the wind, and towards morning
Mustapha, espying it, strolled in, leant against the side,
and inadvertently went to sleep.
How long he slept he did not know, but when he
woke it was broad daylight. Starting up with an oath,
which did not become a good Moslem, he rubbed his
eyes, and darted out on to the cliff.
A Match-making Mother. 147
A man and a bov wore walking together on the vero-e.
The man had a coil of rope in his hand, one end of
■which was fastened to a crowbar driven firmly into the
Sauntering up to him, Mustapha looked on at his
preparations, wondering what he was about to do.
The man was a samphire-gatherer. In order to ob-
tain the little plant called samphire, he daily jeopardised
the life of his son.
Without taking any notice of the black, he fastened
the rope around his child's waist, and with great solici-
tude lowered him over the cliff".
In one hand the boy carried a basket of small dimen-
sions, in the other a knife.
Suddenly the rope jerked.
' Hallo ! ' cried the man ; ' something wrong.'
And he began pulling up rapidly hand over hand.
Presently the boy's head appeared at the surface.
Hauling him on to the land, his father said —
' What's the matter, Johnny ? '
' About ten feet down, father, lying on a ledge of
rock, is a woman, and she is so still and quiet, I think
she is dying.'
At the mention of a woman, Mustapha listened atten-
"What if she should prove to be the missing lady of
whom he was in search ?
His resolution was taken immediately.
The samphire-gatherer regarded his boy with aston-
' A woman, did you say ? ' he exclaimed.
i Yes, father,' replied the lad.
' How is she dressed ? '
' Like a lady.'
' Oh ' ' exclaimed Mustapha, Avringing his hands.
1 Perhaps it is my poor dear mistress. She came on
148 A Hatch-making Mother.
the cliff last night for a walk after the ball, and I have
been searching for her ever since.'
' Your mistress, eh ! ' ejaculated the samphire-
'Yes, my good man,' replied the black. ' You shall
have gold — much gold — if you will bring her to the
' I'll have your money if I earn it,' returned the
man, ' though, for the matter of that, I would gladly
save a fellow-creature's life for nothing. You must
stand by the rope, and help the lad to haul up — first
the lady, and then me. Stand firm, for the love of
God. There must be no blundering or hesitation in
this work, or it's just being pitched headlong into
eternity, that's all.'
' And enough too,' said Mustapha. ' Never fear.
Though my skin is a different colour from your own, I
have some strength in my arms, and you need not be
afraid to trust to me.'
' I'll risk it,' said the samphire-gatherer.
Setting his lips firmly together, he unfastened the
rope from the lad's waist, and tied it round his own,
giving Mustapha instructions the while how he should
lower him over the cliff.
At length everything was ready, and he disappeared
over the precipice, Mustapha paying out the rope little
At length there was a jerk.
Some minutes elapsed, which appeared an age to
those on the bank, so great was their anxiety to know
whether the lady was alive or dead.
When the rope again jerked, Mustapha hauled it up
slowly, so as to prevent the strain upon it causing the
strands to snap.
_ Up, up, until the skirts of a white muslin dress was
visible ; up, until the inanimate body of a woman,
A Jfatch-?naki?ti>- Mother. 149
and that woman Beatrice Harrington, was safely
The samphire-gatherer had, with a courage beyond
all praise, left himself on the ledge, entirely at the
mercy of those above.
As soon as he could disengage the rope, Mustapha
lowered it again. It was successfully caught by the
samphire-gatherer, who in his turn was brought to the
top of the cliff.
Mustapha now despatched the lad into the town
for a fly. To carry Beatrice in his arms to the Her-
mitage was out of the question, and while awaiting the
arrival of the carriage, he conversed with the samphire-
gatherer, and gave him a sovereign which he had in his
Beatrice did not open her eyes. She seemed com-
pletely exhausted. The fact was, she had remained in
her desperate position until her brain gave way. She
was delirious with fear, and had not her senses left her
she would probably have fallen over the side, and have
"When the fly came, Beatrice was placed in it, and
driven to the Hermitage. She was carried to the old
bedroom in which she had slept before, and laid on the
bed, while Mustapha went to another part of the house
and sought Mrs. Greaves, the housekeeper, to whom he
briefly related what had occurred.
Mrs. Greaves listened with a frown upon her wrinkled
' I wish,' she exclaimed, when the black had finished
his recital, ' that Sir Frederick hated women as much
as I do, then we shouldn't have the house continually
turned topsy-turvy for the painted things. Tell Miss
Maynard I want her.'
To find this lady Mustapha had to go to the west
wing. Miss Maynard was a lady of about six-and-
150 A Hatch-making Mother.
thirty years of age, with a pensive countenance. On
making inquiries, he found she was in the garden, and
there he spoke to her.
She went at once to Mrs. Greaves, and was briefly
informed of the singular adventure of which Beatrice
was the heroine, but refused to have anything to do
with her detention.
' Heaven knows, Mrs. Greaves,' she exclaimed, ' that
I have enough on my mind as it is. For seven years
have I been — '
1 Hush ! ' cried the housekeeper in a tone of alarm.
1 It is dangerous to speak above your breath.'
' You know what I mean, so further explanation is
not needed. I implore you, however, to manage this
affair yourself. If you cannot do so, I will step in at
the last moment; but I have a woman's repugnance to
assist Sir Frederick in the execution of schemes which
are too disgraceful and serious in their consequences to
' It is always I who have to do everything,' said
Mrs. Greaves in a passion, flouncing out of the room,
and leaving Miss Maynard with Mustapha.
The lady heaved a deep sigh.
Mustapha was about to withdraw, when she beckoned
him to her side.
' When this girl recovers,' she exclaimed, ' let me
know. I will visit her.'
' Yes, miss,' replied Mustapha.
Then Miss Maynard retired to the west wing, and
busied herself in duties which are of no interest to the
When Beatrice came to herself, she fancied she was
dreaming. Back again in the old Hermitage ! It
could not be. Was she able to credit the evidence of
her senses ?
Mrs. Greaves had been watching her, and that lady's
A Match-making Mother. 151
harsh voice soon persuaded her that she was not in the
land of spirits.
i So you arc awake at last, young lady ! ' she ex-
claimed. ' Don't look so scared. This is the house
you were visiting a short time back. Your mamma
left this morning in great disgust, thinking you had
eloped with Sir Frederick, and is now at the Lord
"Warden, in Dover, sending telegrams to different
parts, communicating with the detective police, and
lamenting that she didn't make you a ward in Chan-
' How did I come here ? ' asked Beatrice, still be-
' Mustapha brought you.'
' But the cliff — I can hear the shrill cries of the
sea-mew, the howl of the wind, the wash of the sea
on the rocks below. God, the horror of that
' According to the black's account, you were drawn
up from your perilous position by a samphire-gatherer.'
'May I not go and join my mother?' exclaimed
Beatrice. ' Believe me, I feel deeply grateful to all of
you for your kindness.'
' Sir Frederick's permission must be obtained before
you can be allowed to quit this house,' answered Mrs.
' Sir Frederick ! where is he ? '
' Xever mind ; perhaps he will be here quite soon
enough for you.'
' That is an additional reason,' said Beatrice, earn-
estly, ' why you should assist me to escape. He has
made dishonourable proposals to me.'
' I can readily believe that,' returned Mrs. Greaves,
with a grim smile, ' and I can tell you that you are not
the first, by some dozens, he has treated in the same
way, if that is any consolation to you.'
152 A Match-making Mother.
The mocking tone in which the woman spoke made
the girl's blood run cold.
' Are — are you serious ? ' she gasped.
' There is never much in this house to make me
anything else. Make up your mind to stay here. I
will send you up another dress, so that you can make
yourself look decent.'
And, as if to prevent any farther conversation, she
abruptly left the room. A housemaid soon afterwards
brought her some articles of wearing apparel, and when
she had made her toilette, a small but substantial
repast, for which she was very grateful, Avas sent to her
on a tray.
Deeply meditating, Beatrice sat in the sitting-room
which had been provided for her.
All at once her privacy was intruded upon by Mus-
tapha, who ushered in Miss Maynard.
There was something in this lady's face which served
to reassure Beatrice.
Obeying an instinctive impulse she sprang forward
and seized her by the hand, exclaiming,
' I do not know who you are nor whence you come,
but something tells me you are a friend, and mean to
' Indeed, you are greatly mistaken,' replied Miss
Maynard. ' I intend to do nothing of the sort.'
Beatrice's countenance fell.
A peculiar look, however, with which Miss Maynard
favoured her, served to reassure her a little.
Mustapha was standing near the door watching the
two ladies with curious eyes.
' You can withdraw,' exclaimed Miss Maynard.
He salaamed and withdrew at once.
When they were alone, she exclaimed in an eager
' My dear girl, you judged correctly — I am your
A IS latch -making Mother. 153
friend, but this house is so full of spies and secrets,
that it is dangerous to speak above one's breath. I
came with the intention of delivering you from a fate
to which death is preferable.'
' Who are you ? ' asked Beatrice.
' Ask me not. I can only tell you that I am what I
trust you may never be,' replied Miss Maynard sadly.
' Pardon so rude a question. It was only put with
the object of learning to whom I was indebted for so
much unmerited kindness.'
' Not unmerited. You are a woman, and in distress.
I came here to succour you ; put on your bonnet, and
' I have none. You forget, or you have not heard,
that I was at a ball last night.'
' It had escaped my memory ; take my own. We
do not study the fashions here, but you will find it
serviceable. Myjacket too is at your service. Do not
tarry. The servants are at tea, and I wish to get you
away from here before Sir Frederick returns.'
' Then he is not at present an inmate of the Her-
mitage ? '
1 No, he is at sea in his yacht, so Mustapha informs
The transference of the bonnet and jacket was soon
accomplished, and Beatrice was successfully conducted
into the garden, and from thence guided out of the
grounds by her kind friend and ally.
i We must part here,' said Miss Maynard.
'Thanks, thanks; a thousand thanks!' exclaimed
Beatrice, affected almost to tears. ' If we must part,
at least do not stifle the new-born friendship I feel
springing up in my heart. Tell me to whom I am in-
' I am called Cora,' replied Miss Maynard ; ' and if
ever you should return to this house — '
154 A Match-making Mother.
1 Never — never ! '
1 Be not too sure. Sir Frederick Cazenove is one of
those remarkably pertinacious men who never abandon
a promised pleasure. It is far from improbable that
you will visit the Hermitage again. If I should un-
happily prove a true prophet, remember that Cora will
always be your friend.'
Beatrice smiled incredulously.
Kissing Miss Maynard on each cheek, she took her
leave, and then walked quickly in the direction of
Dover, which she reached in about an hour.
She found that the waiters and the other loungers
about the hotel regarded her strangely, and whispered
among themselves as she approached.
Taking no notice of them, she walked upstairs and
entered the sitting-room which had been occupied by
her mother and herself.
Mrs. Harrington was seated at a table penning a
despatch, or rather writing a letter, to her solicitors,
the Messrs. Burt, respecting the elopement of her
As the door opened, she uttered a cry of astonish-
To see her daughter back again was indeed a surprise,
as she fully believed she had eloped with Sir Frederick
Cazenove ; and she had industriously noised the report
all over Dover, saying to herself, ' He must marry her
when the thing is made so public'
' Is it you, Beatrice ?' she exclaimed. ' Where is
your husband ? '
1 What on earth do you mean, mamma ? ' replied
' You went away with Sir Frederick Cazenove last
night. I have witnesses to prove it ; and if you come
back four-and-twenty hours afterwards, s you return to
A Match-making Mother. 155
' Hear my story, and you will alter your opinion.'
' I can listen to nothing !' hastily interrupted Mrs.
Harrington. ' The most romantic story in the world
would be no palliation of — '
' But I insist upon it,' said Beatrice, stamping her
foot imperatively on the floor ; ' after what you have
said, I have a right to demand to be heard.'
Finding her daughter resolute, Mrs. Harrington con-
sented to hear her story. When she had concluded,
she said in a low voice, and with a crestfallen air —
' I am bound to believe you, and after what has
happened, the only admission I can make is, that I have
made a fool of myself. We must leave Dover imme-
' And go — '
' To — to Italy — anywhere. I would go to Jericho if
I thought this foolish affair would be unknown there.
The packet leaves in an hour. Let us hasten to put
our things together.'
In an hour and a half from that time the Harringtons
Avere on their way to France.
Sir Frederick Cazenove and Beatrice never met
ao-ain. The Harringtons remained abroad for some
years, and when they returned to England, the match-
making mother had the satisfaction of knowing that
her daughter had changed her name, and that those
who would have smiled at that of Beatrice Harrington
could say nothing to that of the Countess Delia Spada,
which she had acquired through marrying the wealthy
nobleman who bore that title.
The second attempt succeeded better than the first.
But then, after all, these things require a little practice.
WORKS BY THE AUTHOR OF
JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLE6V1AH."
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